Love, Love, Love--What is it Good For?
by AdrenalineRush15
Summary: Sometimes, you have to push away all of your fears and insecurities to get what you want. Otherwise you'll be left with a life of "what ifs" and "maybes." Sometimes, you have to stop looking in every corner of the universe for your happy ending. Sometimes, you have to just let it come to you.
1. Chapter 1

First attempt at FanFiction-please help yourself to reviews, they are greatly appreciated. Feel free to provide constructive criticism regarding my writing (heaven knows I need it (: ) Also, don't shy away from any thoughts or ideas you have/want to see incorporated into the story. Thanks so much-enjoy!

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In a perfect world everything in your life would work out. You would graduate high school and college with flying colors. You would get your dream job and never have to worry about financial stability for as long as you live. You would find yourself forever surrounded by your best friends—never imagining your life without them because you simply wouldn't have to. You would find the love of your life, hold on to them tightly, and never let them go. Things would miraculously fall into place without trouble or worry.

Except, the world isn't a perfect place. In fact, it's the farthest thing from it. Instead, school becomes the most stressful contributor to your life. You find yourself working a dead-end job wondering how you got there and where things went wrong. You discover that, over time, you probably lose more friends than you make because people are fickle. And your love life is in shambles. You rack your brain, going over all of your exes questioning everything you did and said to them. You internally flinch every time someone asks you how you are doing, answering with a short "Fine" because they don't expect to hear anything else—even if you are quite the opposite of fine.

But what if I was to tell you, despite all of the fear, sorrow, regret, and pain in the world, despite the fact life isn't perfect and flawless, there is still something to live for? Would you believe me? Probably not. Not until you found the thing for yourself, that is. Seeing is believing, and all that stuff, right? Well, I believe in staying strong and going down swinging; I believe in giving life your all, even when it's throwing everything it can at you; I believe in a higher power, whether that be God or not I'm not sure yet, and I believe in _love_—not because I have to, and not because I feel obligated to. No, I believe in all of those things because life is too damn hard to go through not believing them.

They say love makes the world go round. They say love is worth it. In spite of the potential, and somewhat inevitable, heartbreak and misery and hardships, people constantly say love makes everything better. Maybe that's true. Because sometimes, you feel like you're at the end of your rope—you feel like you can't handle anything anymore. That's how life goes. But if you are lucky enough to find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with—the person who knows every single little thing about you, both good and bad, and chooses to love you anyway, those times don't seem as difficult. They give you a reason to get up each and every morning and continue with your life. They give your life meaning.

Sometimes people miss out on that one significant, special person because they're not looking for them. They don't exactly care so that person slips in and out of their life with so much as a passing glance. Yet, others don't find that person because they're looking _too_ hard; everywhere they go they examine every person, asking themselves if maybe this time the person standing in front of them is the one. These people—the people who don't care enough to look or the people whose desperation clouds all other elements of life—are the ones the world should have sympathy for. Not because they're terrible people or are the dregs of society, but because they may never know what it feels like to totally and completely be in love with another human soul. They will never be able to thoroughly appreciate the gentle caress of a lover. And they may never know what it's like to be committed to another person, and just how much of a purpose that can give you.

The best kind of love, in a lot of people's opinions, is the surprising kind. The kind that blossoms from a friendship, the kind that no one really sees coming. The kind of love that is found when two people stop looking in all of the hidden crevices and corners of the world and begin looking right in front of them. It's kind of hard to beat that type of love—it's strong and it's pure. It's genuine and it's passionate. And more than that, it has the potential to be unwavering and eternal. A love like that is rare and special—and people need to appreciate it when it comes along.

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The train rattled and clicked along the tracks at a steady pace as Santana Lopez sat in one of the last compartments threading her hands through her hair and letting out an exasperated sigh. She stared at her laptop sitting beside her and crumpled up yet another piece of paper as she threw it onto the ground, watching the pile grow. She glanced around the small room and was extremely grateful to be alone. She didn't want anyone—even if she didn't know the person—to see her beginning to crack under stress and pressure. She was Santana Lopez, goddamit, and stress and pressure were supposed to just slide right over her, leaving no mark of their existence. However, being a college student clearly took its toll on even the toughest, most badass people of the world.

"This prompt doesn't even make any sense," Santana muttered to herself as she looked at her computer again, rereading her assignment for the tenth time since she boarded the train twenty minutes ago. She stuck the end of her pen between her teeth as she read the prompt word for word hoping to make sense of it at the slower pace, but to no avail. In a fit of frustration Santana threw her pen at the screen of the laptop and sat back in the seat, closing her eyes and again running her hands through her raven colored hair.

A few minutes passed as Santana listened to the sounds of the train coming from outside her compartment. She heard muffled discussions of people talking about why they're travelling from New Haven to New York City, or how their youngest kid was sick last week. Santana sighed again and was so lost in thought she failed to hear the door of her compartment slide open as a new person entered the room and took in the sight of the clearly weary girl.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or is Santana Lopez beginning to come undone at the seams?" a soft, melodic voice asked, and Santana's eyes snapped open at the familiarity of it. The voice could only belong to one person in the entire world.

There, standing tall with a broad smile, stood Quinn Fabray. The person who changed Santana's view of love literally overnight. The person who made Santana question what she had with Brittany in the first place; the person who, since they went their separate ways, had consumed almost all of Santana's thoughts. The one and only person who had the potential to give Santana everything she wanted, while also possessing the capability to break Santana's heart into a million pieces.

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Sorry it's so short, by the way! I kind of just needed a set up chapter to get my foot in the door and get things rolling.


	2. Chapter 2

Santana gaped at the sight of her—it had been almost 3 years since the former simultaneous best friends and mortal enemies had seen each other at Mr. Schuester's fail of a wedding. Quinn's hair was longer than Santana remembered and it cascaded down her back in blonde waves. She wore tight fitting black jeans, a white blouse and black heels to top it all off. It was a simple outfit, but Santana couldn't help but think how good Quinn looked in it. But, more than anything, Santana was drawn to Quinn's impossibly hazel eyes. They held an intensity Santana had failed to remember and they made her self-conscious. Quinn Fabray had a way of looking at people and making them feel as though she was looking _into_ them rather than _at_ them—as if she was reading their every thought.

Santana realized she hadn't responded yet and cleared her throat. "Quinn…hi…hey…" she said lamely as hazel eyes bore into her. The only thought that flowed through her mind was her last meeting with Quinn, when both girls had a significant amount to drink at the wedding and ended up in bed together. Santana remembered the way Quinn's skin felt flush up against hers, and how Quinn's touch was the most gentle she had ever felt, including Brittany's. She remembered the way their bodies had molded perfectly with one another, and how Quinn's lips left a trail of searing, satisfying heat in their wake wherever they touched Santana's body. She remembered waking up to Quinn the next morning and regretting nothing—even if alcohol had fueled their sexual interaction. But most of all, Santana remembered she and Quinn parting ways later that day with nothing more than a quick hug and a "goodbye" tossed over their shoulders as they walked away from one another, leaving Santana empty and wanting more. They hadn't talked since. Until right this second, Santana amended in her head.

Quinn quirked an eyebrow, as she so often did, at Santana's distress. She closed the compartment door behind her and went to sit directly across from her former best friend. She looked at Santana expectantly, and when got no reply she prompted, "Everything alright?" Her eyes surveyed the scene in front of her: A large pile of crumpled paper balls under Santana's feet, papers strewn across the seat, and Santana's disheveled appearance.

"Uhh…" Santana started, unsure of how to respond. "Yeah…yeah, I'm fine. I'm starting to feel the effects of working twenty hours a week and going to school, that's all." Quinn nodded that she understood, and Santana suddenly stumbled upon the realization that they were on a train headed to New York City. "What are you doing going into the city?" Panic began to overtake Santana as she considered the possibility of getting on the wrong train. "Wait, this train is going to New York City, right? I can't-" But Santana stopped her anxiety ridden questions when she saw Quinn laughing.

"Yes," she answered with conviction, "this train is going into the city, so you don't have to worry. Actually, I live there now." Quinn said it offhandedly, as if it weren't a big deal she could be mere minutes from Santana without her knowing.

Santana's jaw dropped and her eyes widened in surprise at the sudden confession. "What? You live there? Since when? What happened to Yale?" The questions came out quickly and consecutively and Santana only hoped Quinn was able to comprehend what she had asked. A small, sheepish smile played on Quinn's lips, confirming Santana's hopes.

"I sort of graduated early. I got a job offer in New York City and after much consideration, decided I would have been insane to turn it down. So, here I am." Quinn shrugged her shoulders indifferently. Santana had always known Quinn was smart; the girl had managed to keep straight A's through a teen pregnancy and the few weeks she had gone a little crazy and lost herself. But she didn't know Quinn was _that _smart—graduating from Yale early kind of smart.

Santana opened her mouth to respond but couldn't find the words to do it justice. She closed it again, cursing herself inwardly for the apparent disconnect between her brain and her mouth. _What is going on_, Santana asked herself, _I'm never this terrible at having a conversation. It's Quinn, for God's sake. We've been best friends since we were six years old. I mean, sure we hooked up last time we saw each other, and sure we haven't talked since. And yeah, I'd be lying if I said she didn't cross my mind every once in a while…okay, on a daily basis…_Santana immediately shut the rambling inside her head up as her thoughts made their way down a path she didn't want to take. Not right now, anyway.

"Wow," she finally breathed out. "I have to admit, Fabray, that's pretty impressive. Even for you." Santana was grateful her voice didn't give her away and it actually sounded somewhat confident. To keep up appearances, Santana plastered one of her infamous smirks on her face.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Thanks, that means _so _much," she responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She stared at Santana intently for a minute before continuing the conversation. "What were you doing in New Haven?"

Santana fidgeted in her seat uncomfortably. If it had been any other person Santana knew, they would only be asking out of common courtesy as to what she had been doing in New Haven. But Quinn and her damn alluring hazel eyes told Santana a different story; they were soft and filled with curiosity—Quinn genuinely wanted to know what she was doing an hour and a half from where she lived, and Santana felt obligated to tell her.

"Umm…" she began nervously, suddenly feeling self-conscious again, "nothing exciting, really. There's this bookstore I found a while back, it's actually close to Yale's campus. It's this two story place filled with literally every book you can imagine. An older couple owns it-"

"Gwen and Frank? You're talking about Every Which Book, right?" Quinn interjected with a smile. Santana was taken aback for a second, but then realized she should have known better. Of course Quinn knew the place.

"The one and only. Yeah, I haven't found another place like it. So, a few times a year I make a trip there and stock up," Santana waved her hand at a brown shopping bag on the seat next to her and Quinn recognized it from the bookstore.

"Who would have thought the one and only Santana Lopez would be so cultured and interested in reading?" Quinn inquired, in a seemingly sensual voice that made Santana's heartrate speed up.

Santana narrowed her eyes at Quinn, immediately on the defensive. "You tell anyone about it, Blondie, and I will end you in all ways possible," she growled in an attempt to threaten Quinn. But it had no effect on the girl, who just grinned and giggled—a sound that sent a wave of tingles over Santana's tanned skin.

Quinn leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, a mischievous glint in her intense eyes. "Oh, I wouldn't _dream_ of it, sweetheart. Don't look so worried." Santana's breath hitched when Quinn used the nickname so matter-of-factly. She coughed to cover it up and tried to regain her composure.

"Whatever, Fabray. Anyway, what were you doing in New Haven? Seeing as you no longer live and go to school there?" Santana inquired, and she found herself genuinely interested in Quinn's answer. Normally, she wouldn't give a damn about anyone's business, especially if it didn't involve her. But Quinn wasn't just anyone.

"I was visiting a former professor of mine. He was giving me some advice for an upcoming case."

"Quinn Fabray, a big, bad lawyer," Santana drawled as another smirk graced her features. "You always were destined to do great things."

Quinn tilted her head sideways in response. "I'm not sure if that was supposed to be an insult or a compliment."

"Me either," Santana replied truthfully. "We'll go with compliment, so appreciate it while you can before an unavoidable, explicit insult makes its way out of my mouth." This received an eye roll from Quinn, who decided to drop it and take the conversation in a different direction.

"So," Quinn started in her naturally gentle voice, "it's been, what, almost 3 years?"

Santana nodded in affirmation. "Yep, just about." Neither girl seemed to want to broach the subject of what had happened the last time they had seen each other.

"What have you been up to?" Quinn asked, looking at Santana curiously.

Santana paused before replying, debating how much detail she should answer the question in. She decided it would be best if she left out her womanizing tendencies—even if her one night stands were driven by the desire to rid her mind of a certain hazel-eyed blonde. Santana settled for the basics. "Honestly, nothing extraordinary. I mean, I'm not some superstar lawyer at the age of 22 like some people," she said with a knowing smile.

Quinn raised her eyebrows in questioning. "Who said anything about me being a superstar?" she quipped, and it was Santana's turn to roll her eyes.

"Please," she scoffed, "you graduated from Yale an entire year early, and from what I have been able to gather so far, you basically had a job waiting for you. You're already working and consulting on a case, and that bag you're carrying around with you is top of the line, so I'm willing to be you've got a pretty stable income." Santana inclined her head towards the Quinn's bag resting on the seat next to her. "Plus," Santana added, her dark brown eyes locking with Quinn's deep hazel ones, "you're Quinn Fabray. You don't know anything below the level of superstar." The way she said it—as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—filled Quinn with warmth and pride, and she could feel her cheeks slowly becoming red.

Quinn nodded, impressed with Santana's observations. "I don't know about superstar, but yes, I do have a stable job at the moment, thank you." Santana smiled softly at Quinn, knowing the girl was downplaying her talent and her role in the courtrooms of New York City. In high school, the situation would have been completely opposite: Quinn would never have been modest when it came to her successes, and Santana would never have listened to her without a sarcastic comment or scornful retort. But time has a way of changing people; rubbing down their hard, rough edges until they're at ease with themselves and others.

"Figures," Santana teased gently and Quinn smiled in return. She took this as a cue to continue. "I enrolled at NYU three years ago, so I'm finishing up there. What you walked in on," Santana gestured to the mess lying around her, "is me feverishly attempting to complete an assignment for my Psychology course. A class, might I add, I should not have to take considering I'm majoring in advertising."

Quinn bit her lip as she thought about Santana's words. "Advertising, huh?"

Santana nodded in acknowledgement. "Yes, ma'am. I figured that I was able to come up with all of my insults and one-liners about anyone and everyone throughout high school, coming up with catchphrases and slogans shouldn't be too difficult." The response elicited another angelic giggle from Quinn and Santana's pulse quickened again.

"I must say, that's an impressive train of thought. And I'd have to agree with you. You sure do have a way with words."

"What can I say? I'm a natural," Santana said and grinned. She had waited 3 years to reconnect with Quinn. 3 long years. Not wanting to call Quinn out of fear of rejection or embarrassment. Or even worse, both. What she had felt with Quinn that night at Mr. Schue's wedding was completely different than everything else she had ever felt. It was like a breath of fresh air. But Santana was almost positive Quinn didn't feel the same way—after all, the phone works both ways, right? Santana debated calling or texting her hundreds of times; just to ask how Quinn was doing or how school was going. Yet, each time her finger hovered over Quinn's contact information, Santana backed down. Things with Brittany made Santana insecure and guarded. She didn't harbor the desire to let anyone get close to her after that—especially Quinn Fabray. So Santana learned to deal with the "what-ifs" and "maybes" all revolving around Quinn. She learned to accept the fact Quinn was in almost every single one of her thoughts and dreams, and probably always would be.

Quinn's voice pulled her out of her reverie. "Santana?"

She looked up and realized Quinn had asked a question. "I'm sorry, what?" Santana asked, shaking her head as she attempted to clear her mind.

Quinn smiled slightly. "I said, you mentioned something about work, didn't you?"

"Oh yeah. I work as a bartender four nights a week at a place close to home. It's not fabulous—I don't get my own office or personal assistant who brings me coffee as I'm sure you do," Santana simpered at Quinn, "but it pays the bills and helps with tuition."

Quinn shook her head at Santana's comment regarding her job. "Whatever, Lopez. But a bartender? That's very…fitting."

Santana's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Quinn's eyes widened in surprise as she gaged Santana's reaction. "No, no, nothing bad," she answered hastily. "I swear. It's just, bartenders are usually cool and mysterious and…sexy," she mumbled, as her cheeks began to redden again, "and, you know, that's…you," Quinn finished lamely, avoiding eye contact with Santana, who felt her own face become hot and her heart beat faster.

"Thank you," Santana returned, her voice raspy, "I think." Quinn chuckled slightly and nodded.

"Compliment intended," she agreed.

The next few minutes passed in a comfortable silence between the two girls. Quinn looked out the door of the train's compartment, watching people as they passed by the window. Santana focused her sight on the terrain passing by out the window, but she would steal sideways glances at Quinn when the girl wasn't looking.

_Maybe I should just tell her how I feel_, Santana thought to herself, _what's the worst that could happen? Even if she completely turns me down I'm already expecting that, so it's not like it would come as a huge heartbreak. Right?_

Quinn's voice caught her attention. "Do you still keep in touch with anyone from high school?"

Santana's brows knit in confusion at the sudden question, but decided to answer anyway. "Uhh…yeah, believe it or not. I kept the loft after Kurt and Rachel moved out, but I still see them a few times a week. They think us living together for 2 years forged us into some strange, somewhat sexually ambiguous family."

Quinn grinned, showing her perfect teeth. "Wow, out of everyone from high school, I think Kurt and Rachel would be my last two guesses as to who you would still be friends with."

"Lady Hummel and the Hobbit actually aren't _that_ terrible. I mean sure, Kurt spends more time coiffing his hair and making sure his feathered fedora is jauntily placed on his round, little boy head than your average person. And yeah, I'd rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than Berry telling me about her excursions in whatever run-down, no-good, off-Broadway show she's in. But other than that, they're bearable," Santana said charmingly.

"Santana!" Quinn chided sharply, but Santana could see Quinn's lips tug up at the sides as she tried to stop from grinning.

Santana raised her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry," she replied with false sincerity.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Anyone else?"

"Brittany," Santana answered, suddenly looking everywhere but Quinn. "She kind of…lives with me."


	3. Chapter 3

She chanced a glimpse at Quinn and could've sworn she saw a flash of hurt in her hazel eyes. Santana instantly felt the need to explain the situation. "But, like, we're not...together...or whatever. She moved to New York about a year ago and needed a place to stay. She helps with the rent and is overall good company, so it kind of just works, you know?" Santana silently pleaded that Quinn would understand the dynamics surrounding her current relationship with the girl Santana had once viewed as the love of her life.

"So you're living with your ex-girlfriend? The girl who you once probably planned to spend the rest of your life with? And nothing is happening between you two?" Quinn inquired, and Santana seriously questioned if the girl could actually read her mind. Quinn's voice had its usual softness to it, but Santana, who had long since become accustomed to Quinn's indefinite ways of expressing herself, could sense the icy undertones of it. Quinn was a master at hiding her thoughts and feelings, and always had been. She could turn your blood ice cold with nothing more than a glare, but you never really knew what she was thinking. That's what made Quinn Fabray so intimidating; she subtly dropped in threats and insults throughout conversations, enveloping them in casual "How are you-s?" and "What's going on-s?" so you didn't always notice them until after she had walked away. Her voice-so naturally calm and gentle-never gave her away. Unless you knew her as well as Santana did.

Santana glanced out the window as she composed her thoughts. "Quinn," she began, and found herself seeking hazel eyes, "there is absolutely nothing going on between Brittany and me. We're long over. It's completely and totally platonic, I swear. She's actually still in a very committed relationship with our lovely Trouty Mouth." A small smile formed on Santana's lips as she watched Quinn process the information.

"Wait, seriously? You're telling me they're still dating?" Quinn asked incredulously.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Yep, though, I'm not sure why they aren't living together yet; it's been 3 years for fuck's sake. Anyway, he's sort of like a big time male model now. Britt was somehow able to get through to that minuscule brain of his, which I still even question the existence of, and got him to settle down and launch a career. Just don't ask me how she did it. He travels a lot, which you would think would piss Brittany off, but it doesn't because he brings her back all sorts of gifts and special candy." Santana said it in a nice enough tone, but Quinn could tell there was a shade of anger in her words.

Quinn scrunched up her eyebrows as she thought about the situation. She knew when she and Sam started dating in her junior year they were probably doomed; his impressions really weren't that great and he didn't exactly seem like a guy who wanted to be tied down to one woman. Sure, he had given her the promise ring and told her everything she wanted to hear at the time, but Sam was also the guy who dated both Quinn and Santana within hours of each other, and then agreed to take Rachel and Mercedes to junior prom later that year. In retrospect, Quinn thought, the promise ring didn't do a whole lot of good for their relationship. So hearing that Brittany-of all people-was the one to help him settle down and focus on his career was rather astounding.

"Wow," Quinn muttered, "that's-"

"Shocking?" Santana interrupted. "Surprising? Unbelievable? Not really likely in any universe to ever exist?"

Quinn nodded in response, seemingly lost in thought. "Why do I get the feeling you're not completely okay with their situation?" She kept her voice light and nonchalant, but curiously surged through her at a rapid pace.

Santana sighed and began picking at a hole in her jeans. She didn't want to look Quinn in the eyes out of fear of saying too much. "No, I am. I mean, I'm happy she's happy, you know? I guess it's kind of just weird seeing her so...serious with someone else. Because you were right earlier; at one point in my life I did want to spend forever with Brittany." She took a deep breath and looked up. Quinn's features were soft and there was a small, sad smile on her lips.

"I know," she said quietly. "But if she's moved on, don't you think you deserve to, too?" She cocked her head to the side and Santana could feel herself getting lost on the depths of hazel. But Santana suddenly realized the intensity of their conversation, and she hated feeling vulnerable in front of anyone.

"I'm fine, okay? You may not think I've moved on, Fabray, but you can ask any one of the lovely ladies on my long list of hot chicks I've brought to bed with me and whose worlds I rocked. I think you'll find them to be in disagreement with you." Santana wiggled her eyebrows naughtily and winked at Quinn.

The blonde winced at Santana's brazen tone and waved her hand impatiently. "Okay, no. Having hundreds of one night stands with random women does not mean you have moved on. Quite the opposite actually."

Santana raised a questioning eyebrow. "Oh yeah? I didn't realize you were a psychologist as well as a lawyer," she retorted with more venom than she intended.

"You should have already been able to tell me that, seeing as you're the one studying psychology at the moment," Quinn challenged, her eyes surveying the area around Santana, still scattered crumpled up paper everywhere. Santana felt an all too familiar flare of anger stream through her veins.

"Why do you even care? It's not like it affects you." Santana crossed her arms and her legs with a stony look on her face, avoiding Quinn's forceful gaze.

Quinn opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, clearly at a loss of words. Finally, she sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to sound like a bitch-"

"Yet you managed to do a hell of a job at it," Santana interjected, her custom sneer in place. Quinn rolled her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time on the train ride-a habit, Quinn was beginning to think, that was most likely constructed from being around Santana for long periods of time.

"I'm sorry," she said vehemently, "It's just, Santana, you are worth so much more than a series of random hookups with women who won't even remember what happened when they wake up. You're better than that and you deserve more than that."

Santana finally looked Quinn in the eyes; she was met with blazing, fiery passion within them and it made Quinn's words that much more real and genuine. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest for snapping at Quinn.

"Thank you," she whispered, unable to manage anything else. Quinn nodded in acknowledgement and grew silent.

Santana realized they were just about ten minutes from the station and decided she should start picking up the mess she made. She threw all of the paper balls into her bag, and shoved her laptop and textbooks unceremoniously in after them. She was aware of Quinn's fixed stare on her, watching her every movement, but Santana didn't really know what to say to the girl so she avoided the eye contact. She sat back and continued to stare outside.

The train finally came to a shuddering halt and the two girls stood up simultaneously. Santana glanced at Quinn and saw a smile in place. She threw one of her own grins back and bit her lip as relief washed over her body, the temporary tension dissolving almost immediately.

They made their way out of the compartment and into the crowded halls of the train. People were walking haphazardly everywhere, swinging bags and dragging children behind them.

They were just about to get off the train when a man came sprinting down the aisle, not even bothering to look where he was going or who he was running into. He knocked Santana off balance and sent her spinning into Quinn, pinning her up against the window of another compartment.

Quinn's hands found themselves on Santana's rather hard abdomen to keep them both from hitting the floor, feeling the muscles tense up underneath her thin V-neck shirt.

"Down girl," Quinn murmured teasingly in Santana's ear as a grin spread across her face. Santana's skin scorched at the body contact and her heart was beating a mile a minute. She felt like she had been electrocuted, but didn't want the feeling to ever end. She realized her lips were mere inches from Quinn's. Within kissing distance.

Santana shook the thoughts out of her mind as she regained herself. "I uhh...I'm sorry," she said, looking up at Quinn's eyes with an apologetic look on her face.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I was kidding, Santana. It's fine, simple mistake." She reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Santana's ear. The simple gesture sent Santana's hormones into overdrive and she clenched her fists at her side, having to almost physically restrain herself from closing the distance between her lips and Quinn's.

Santana took a deep breath and untangled herself from Quinn, turning to stride quickly out onto the train station platform, with the blonde on her heels. She continued walking towards the exit when she felt a cool hand capture her wrist. Santana turned on her heel and looked at Quinn with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm going the other way," Quinn said softly, and Santana's heart sunk. She had hoped for a little time off of the train with Quinn. Maybe share a cab together...

She shook her head trying to get a grip on herself. "Oh, right, sorry." Santana didn't say anything else because Quinn was looking at her in a way that made her thoughts inappropriate for a train station and she didn't want Quinn to find that out.

Quinn took a sudden step forward and snaked her arms around Santana's waist, pulling her in for a tight hug. Santana felt her breath catch in her throat, but she threw her arms around Quinn's neck, secretly never wanting to let go of the girl.

"Now that we both reside in the wonderful city of New York, I'll be expecting a call from you to hang out as soon as possible," Quinn whispered into Santana's ear, causing goosebumps to rise along every inch of Santana's skin. Not trusting her voice, Santana just nodded into Quinn's neck.

A second later and Quinn pulled back with a grin on her face. She ran her hand down the length of Santana's arm, seeming to enjoy the effect it had on the girl's breathing.

"See you soon, Santana," Quinn said in her melodic voice. Then she turned gracefully and walked out of the train station, leaving Santana to absentmindedly brush her fingers over her own skin, still feeling the warmth of Quinn's fingers all over.


	4. Chapter 4

You guys are seriously wayyyy too kind :) I appreciate all of the comments and reviews more than you know! And I'm so glad the story is being well-received. The first 3 chapters were up so quickly because I had it all planned in my mind and knew exactly how I wanted to start. I think it's safe to say from now on updates will be a little slower, but I will do my best :)

**P.S.** I'm beyond happy some of you picked up the Skins reference ;) Effy Stonem is one of my favorite fictional characters ever, and I felt like acknowledging her! Though, I think we're gonna take a different approach on the subject matter than she does

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Santana walked into the kitchen of the loft the next morning, thankful it was Saturday and she had neither school nor work. Her happiness was fleeting, though, because she was met with a sight she probably could have gone her entire life without seeing: Rachel Berry sitting at the kitchen table, a bright smile on her face. She began bouncing up and down in her seat when Santana entered the room and was met with a scowl.

"Berry, what the hell are you doing here? It's eleven o'clock in the morning, don't you have any better place to be?" Santana said as she tried to rub the remaining sleep from her eyes.

Rachel rolled her eyes and smirked. "Contrary to your belief Santana, not everything in my life revolves around performing. Only about 95% of it does. The other 5% is dedicated to the little people who are still trapped in my very large shadow…people like you." Santana could tell Rachel was making a joke and didn't actually mean it, but that didn't stop her temper from flaring—especially since it was so early in the day.

"Okay, listen here, Yentl, you may _think_ you're some big, hotshot Broadway leading lady, but might I remind you that just last week the new doorman for your apartment building asked if you had lost your mommy. Watch your annoying ego, we wouldn't want it getting bigger than that thing you call a nose on your face," Santana snapped.

Rachel's jaw dropped in shock. "Alright, that was incredibly rude. I thought you and I had become some sort of friends. Or at least on that path." She looked at Santana with wide, innocent eyes and Santana started to get pissed with herself. She really had been working on cutting back the number of insults that found their way out of her mouth. Really, she had. It was just a lot harder than she expected.

Santana heaved a sigh and threaded her hands through her hair before taking a seat across from Rachel. "I'm sorry," she said, "You know how I get. I have rage, I go to the yelling place." Rachel nodded in acknowledgement and stared at Santana, apparently suddenly deep in thought about something.

A few moments slid by in silence until Santana realized she was sitting at her kitchen table with Rachel.

"Hold up," she began, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Berry, how did you even get _in_ here? I know for a fact I locked the door last night."

Rachel grinned as she stuck her hand in her pocket and fished around for something. A second later she held up a key to show Santana. "You never asked for mine back," she said happily with a shrug of her shoulders. Santana opened her mouth to respond with a snarky comment but Rachel didn't let her. "Why do you have rage? I mean, specifically today? Did something happen?"

Santana closed her mouth, taken off guard by Rachel's abrupt question. "What? No. No, I'm fine. I just…I'm fine." Rachel raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying Santana's words.

"Well, my original intention was to come over here and suggest we go to breakfast or get coffee or something, but now that I know something is bothering you, you might as well spill it," Rachel replied in a firm voice and she smiled proudly.

"Berry, I swear to you-"

"Come on, Santana. I know there's something bothering you. You haven't even tried to remove me from the loft by force! Normally you would have quite literally dragged me out by now. I get it, you're Santana Lopez, you're not supposed to be bothered by anything. You go through life pretending you're above feelings, pretending you don't have a heart. But you forget I have now known you for almost 6 years—I know that's not true. And I'm not leaving until you tell me." Rachel sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

Santana was momentarily stunned by Rachel's nerve and determination. Once the surprise wore away, she began to debate her options. This was Rachel Berry she was talking about; a person doesn't go to Rachel Berry to have a heart to heart conversation about possibly being on the brink of falling in love with a girl who most likely doesn't reciprocate the feelings.

Then again…bottling up her emotions almost never worked in Santana's favor. And since Santana and Quinn had gone their separate ways, again, less than 24 hours ago, Santana could think of nothing but her blonde friend and the way she felt when their bodies were touching, even if it was only for a few seconds. Maybe Rachel could talk her off the edge of this potentially very dangerous cliff. _Fuck it,_ Santana thought to herself.

"I saw Quinn yesterday," she blurted out. Rachel looked astounded that Santana had essentially thrown her pride to the side and actually answered.

"Oh," she responded slowly, clearly confused. "Okay, but…why does that give you rage? It's just Quinn. Oh, God," she added, as if just realizing something. Her voice became faint as she brought a hand to her forehead, "You guys didn't get into another one of your fights, did you? _Please_ tell me you two didn't end up slapping each other in a public place."

Santana rolled her eyes irritably. "Jesus, Berry, do you think we're back in high school or something? Damn. No, we didn't freaking slap each other in public. It has been years since we slapped each other, actually. Years," she repeated firmly and nodded her head in an attempt to signify the height of this accomplishment.

"Okay then seriously, Santana, you're going to have to do a much better job at explaining why seeing Quinn has sent you into a fit of rage. I'm clearly missing something here."

Santana suddenly slammed her fists down on the table in frustration, causing Rachel to flinch. She didn't want to be consumed by the thoughts of Quinn; she didn't want to be feeling this way about someone she had once tried to destroy and ruin just to get to the top of the food chain in high school; she didn't want to have a conversation where she divulged her feelings about Quinn; and she most definitely did not want to have that conversation with Rachel Berry.

But she didn't really see any other choice: she _was_ consumed by thoughts of Quinn and she _did_ feel something she never expected to feel for Quinn. And the girl sitting across from her, looking on with big, expectant eyes, made it a reality for Santana that she was indeed about to have this conversation with Rachel Berry. Even if she hated the situation with every fiber of her being.

"Quinn and I hooked up at Mr. Schue's wedding 3 years ago. Uhh...the failure of a wedding, not the weird little thing they did after regionals. Obviously." Santana said it abruptly and quickly, not wanting to give herself a chance of backing out of admitting it. Though she knew Brittany was already at work at the dance studio she taught at, Santana glanced around the loft unreasonably to make sure she and Rachel were alone. She had never told Brittany what had happened between her and Quinn, and didn't feel like doing so anytime soon.

At first she thought Rachel had completely missed what she had said, but shock slowly spread across Rachel's features as the words registered with her. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth slightly, but no words came out. Santana decided it would be best to let Rachel work through the information herself, and sat back in her chair until that happened.

"Wait…so you and Quinn…wait, what?" Rachel stammered finally, causing Santana to roll her eyes.

"Keep up, Berry. Quinn and I hooked up at that suck-fest Mr. Schue had the balls to call a wedding. It was just after the whole Brittany thing. I was pissed and sad and lonely and Quinn was there. We both had a lot to drink and just…hooked up. I don't know how to put it in simpler terms for you."

Rachel tilted her head to the side as if it would help her think more clearly about the confession Santana just made. She was silent for a long while until she eventually found her voice.

"So what?" she asked, and her voice was still laced with confusion.

"What do you mean, 'so what'?" Santana retorted. She was starting to get really irritated at Rachel's lack of help and understanding.

"It's just, you're Santana Lopez. You've slept with countless women since you and Brittany broke up all that time ago and _they've_ never resulted in you stomping around and being all grumpy," Rachel said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Santana clenched her jaw in anger. "I was so not stomping around or being grumpy, Berry, so shut up."

Rachel chuckled slightly. "Right, because slamming your fists on the table is a tell-tale sign of a completely _cheerful_ person," she returned with a smirk.

"Fine, whatever," Santana relented. "I was definitely not stomping, though." Rachel waved her hand dismissively.

"Sure, and my point is, why is Quinn making you act like this? I mean, it's been 3 years since you guys slept together! That's like, forever ago in Santana Lopez world. Unless…" Rachel trailed off with a gasp. She clasped her hands over her mouth.

"Don't!" Santana angrily interrupted, pointing a finger at Rachel. "Don't you dare say what I think you were about to say."

But Rachel pushed on with a huge grin, "Oh my God! You're in love with Quinn!" But as she said the words, her smile faded and dread and fear replaced the happiness. "Oh my God, you're in love with Quinn." Her voice was flat and distant now, the realization of the words finally hitting her. She was silent for a second as she thought about the situation before she continued, "Seriously, Santana, just the thought of you two being together is downright terrifying. You guys separately are forces to be reckoned with; but together? I think that's how World War III starts."

"Shut it, Hobbit! You have no idea what you're talking about. I am not in love with Quinn."

"Not yet anyway," Rachel muttered, and Santana had to suppress the urge to reach over and slap the girl clear across the face. She closed her eyes and clenched her hands into fists as they rested on the table.

"Berry…" Santana began menacingly, but Rachel cut her off.

"No, it's fine. This is actually really good! Frightening, yes, but good! You've never considered trying out an actual relationship with someone."

"She doesn't feel the same way," Santana deadpanned as she opened her eyes to glare at the girl facing her.

Rachel's face softened when she heard the trace of dejectedness in Santana's voice. "And how can you be so sure?"

Santana rolled her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. "Because it's been 3 years, Rachel. You said it yourself. She hasn't called me or texted me once since it happened. She didn't even tell me she moved to New York City, for God's sake! Clearly I've never crossed her mind."

"You don't know that!" Rachel exclaimed. "Maybe she didn't reach out to you for the same reasons you never called her."

Santana raised a questioning eyebrow at Rachel's assumption that she knew Santana's reasoning behind her hesitancy to contact Quinn. "Which are?" she asked.

"Fear. Embarrassment. The desire to keep things as they were. Not wanting to risk your friendship—even if it always has been some weird, intense, competitive thing between you two," Rachel answered in a gentle voice.

Santana huffed in response but said nothing. She begrudgingly admitted to herself that Rachel was right. Every single one of those reasons fueled her decision not to reach out to Quinn after they slept together. She couldn't deal with another rejection so soon after Brittany ditched her for the blonde Lisa Rinna. That itself was embarrassing enough. And, like Rachel said, things between Santana and Quinn had always been somewhat of a cutthroat rivalry, but at the end of the day they were there for each other, regardless of what had been said and done. They would have done practically anything for one another, even if neither of them was willing to admit it. The competitive aspect just kept things interesting between them.

"Wait, did you say she lives in the city now?" Rachel's voice snapped Santana backed to reality.

"Yeah, she told me yesterday. So what?" Santana didn't see the relevancy of where Quinn resided, considering nothing was probably going to come of it.

Rachel's eyes lit up with excitement. "Santana, this is great news! Now you can give this whole thing with her a chance! You have to call her. Ask her to go for coffee or lunch or something."

"There is nothing with her," Santana responded through gritted teeth.

"You'll never know if you don't try," Rachel sing-songed.

Santana's desire to slap Rachel was at an all-time high; nevertheless, she dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand, directing the anger somewhere else.

"Call her. Right now," Rachel continued, much to Santana's dismay.

"What? Berry, are you insane? I'm not calling her. Especially not when you're sitting there looking at me with bug eyes." Santana shook her head, trying to end the conversation.

"If you don't do it when I'm here basically forcing you to, you never will. I know you, Santana. So let's go. Call her."

The two girls shot daggers from their eyes at one another with frowns in place, both waiting for the other one to succumb. While she stared Rachel down, Santana began to see just how right Rachel was. She hadn't really intended on calling Quinn; she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of her, and didn't want to make Quinn feel uncomfortable. But maybe Rachel had a point. It couldn't hurt to just call Quinn and suggest getting coffee. If Santana got in over her head she could always bail.

Finally, after several long minutes. Santana reached into the pocket of her pajama pants and pulled out her phone with a sigh. She scrolled down through her contacts until she found Quinn's name. With one last weary glance at Rachel, Santana pressed the CALL button. It rang for a few seconds, and Santana seriously considered simply hanging up and telling Rachel she had gotten her voicemail. But as she was about to do just that, a voice picked up on the other end of the line, making Santana's breath hitch.

"Hello?" the angelic voice said. Santana cleared her throat before replying.

"Uhh…Quinn, hi. It's Santana." She internally kicked herself for sounding so weak and lame.

"Yes, I know. Caller ID, remember?" Santana could hear the smile in Quinn's voice and it calmed her down a bit. Santana nodded to herself.

"Right, of course. Sorry about that."

Santana heard Quinn giggle and felt a familiar tug on her heart. "That's quite alright. Was there a specific reason you called? Or did you just miss my voice already?" Quinn teased.

_Fuck yeah I missed your voice,_ Santana said to herself, _You could persuade a freaking nun to get into bed with you with that fucking voice of yours_.

"Nice try, Fabray," Santana finally found her confidence and wanted to put it to use. "Yeah, actually I was wondering if you wanted to go get coffee sometime?"

There was a slight pause on Quinn's end of the phone and Santana's pulse quickened as she began to think this was a bad idea. "I would absolutely love to get coffee with you," Quinn told her and Santana let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding.

"Cool. How about…"

"Tomorrow morning?" Quinn interrupted. She tried to keep her voice calm and collected, but Santana thought she could sense excitement underneath.

"Tomorrow morning, Blondie, you got it. I know a great place in lower Manhattan. I'll text you the address."

"It's a date. See you tomorrow," Quinn responded softly. Santana barely had time to wrap her mind around the words before Quinn hung up. She placed her phone on the table and glanced at Rachel—who she had somewhat forgotten about during her conversation with Quinn.

"Well…" Rachel started cautiously, "that seemed to go pretty well."

Santana nodded in reply. "Yup. No big deal. It's nothing, Rachel. I swear." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Miss Lopez. But," she said as she stood up and threw her purse over her shoulder, "I do have to be leaving now. I have rehearsal in a few hours, and I do believe I need some rest after dealing with your senseless drama."

"You're just asking me to hit you, Berry," Santana threatened.

Rachel just chuckled and started heading for the door. "Let me know how your date goes!" she called over her shoulder.

"It's not a date!" Santana shouted, but it had no effect as the door was already shut and Rachel was gone.

Santana made her way back to her room to get dressed. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and was surprised it was already after one o'clock. As she began rifling through her closet her thoughts again turned to a particular blonde haired, hazel eyed beauty.

Though she genuinely appreciated Rachel's actions and intentions, Santana knew nothing was going to come out of this thing with Quinn. It was _Quinn_ for God's sake. They had slept together once, 3 years ago. Rachel was right about one thing: that was like forever ago. And they hadn't talked since then until just yesterday. There's no way she felt the same way about Santana.

And yet, Santana couldn't help but think of that one night she spent with Quinn with years ago. It was different, it was special. On a basic level, it had just felt right. Santana didn't regret for a second sleeping with Quinn. She would do it again in a heartbeat if the opportunity presented itself. _Down girl_, she told herself, mimicking Quinn's words from the day before.

Though she longed to feel Quinn's skin against her own again, and though she wished with everything she had she could kiss Quinn whenever she wanted, Santana wasn't naïve. One night with someone can't make you fall in love with them, right? One random, drunken hookup shouldn't leave you pining for the person even 3 years later. Eventually, Santana got sick of all of the feelings and emotions flowing through her.

Santana Lopez didn't do feelings. Sure, maybe Brittany had opened her up a bit and helped her become a little less guarded, but ever since they broke up Santana's walls and defenses were higher than ever. Life was better without feelings. She _liked_ it without feelings, and she was going to keep it that way.

As Santana pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans, a red tank top, and black heels she looked at the clock again. 1:30 P.M. _Never too early for a little pre-gaming_, she thought to herself. She walked out into the living area of the loft and towards the front door, grabbing her leather jacket off of the hook beside it on the way. She was Santana Lopez, and she was going to do what Santana Lopez does best when she wants to numb her thoughts and emotions: alcohol and sex.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to the lovely follower **Dunphy** for pointing out a flaw in my story ;) I truly want to be as consistent and accurate as possible so I'm seriously extremely grateful! I think I've managed to dig my way out of that hole... Also, thank you for all the comments and reviews!

**P.S.** I ship Quinn and Santana harder than any 2 characters ever, but come on...BRITTANA WEDDING :)))))))

* * *

The alarm clock sounded like a gunshot as it began to go off, blaring around the room. Santana lashed out at it angrily with her hand as she swatted it off her nightstand, sending it crashing to the ground. It fell with a loud thud and Santana was only happy her act of aggression had shut the thing up. She groaned and buried deeper into her blankets. She had been up for no more than 30 seconds and Santana already knew it was going to be a long day. Her head was still pounding rapidly from the aftermath of the alcohol she consumed yesterday, and her body felt like it was one fire, her bones aching.

"Morning," a cheerful voice said from the other side of the bed, and the shock of it sent Santana jumping and rolling off of the bed as she dragged the covers down with her. She stood up slowly, irritably, and blew a few strands of hair from her face.

"Jesus, Britt," Santana said and clutched at her chest trying to slow her heart rate down, "at least give me some warning when you're there. Damn. I thought you had to work today."

Brittany giggled and sprawled out on the now vacant bed. "Sorry. The studio's closed for repairs, so I'm free all day. And you're just really cute when you sleep. You don't seem as…mean. Or angry." She looked at Santana with her big, blue eyes.

Even though she was in a real, devoted relationship with Sam, Brittany had a tendency to say and do things that made Santana a bit uncomfortable. Watching Santana sleep was only one of them. Brittany would unexpectedly come up behind Santana and hug her from the back as she nuzzled her face in Santana's neck. She would randomly tuck lose pieces of hair behind Santana's ear, or help zip up Santana's dress, her fingers ghosting across Santana's bare back sending shivers down her spine. And maybe Santana was merely overreacting; maybe Brittany was coming at these things as a best friend—she always had been a touchy/feely kind of person—but Santana didn't necessarily like being that close to the girl she had once called the love of her life.

As she sat back down on the edge of the bed Santana sighed and tried to fix her disheveled hair by running her hands through it. "Yeah well, that's because I'm not completely surrounded by idiots when I'm sleeping like I am when I'm awake."

Brittany rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You should stop focusing on the bad things in life and start looking for the rainbows and unicorns. It's a lot better like that." Santana smiled and nodded her head acting like she understood exactly what Brittany meant by that.

"I'll try, Britt," Santana replied. "Is there a particular reason you were waiting for me to wake up?"

"Oh yeah. Sam had an early magazine shoot today, so I was going to suggest we go get breakfast or something. I know how hungry you get after a night of partying." She said it with a knowing smile and Santana was reminded of one of the many reasons why she loved Brittany: she truly was one of the sweetest, most thoughtful, genuine people to ever grace the earth with their presence.

_What's up with everyone wanting to get breakfast with me all of a sudden? Damn_, Santana thought, remembering Rachel's original intentions from the day before. _Must be my irresistible charm, obviously._

Santana reached down between the bed and nightstand to retrieve the alarm clock she had attacked minutes ago and put it back in place, thankful it wasn't broken. She saw the time and felt a wave of panic when she realized she was already running a little late for her dat—_get together_, she reprimanded herself, with Quinn. Santana looked at Brittany guiltily.

"I'm sorry, Britt. I'd love to, but I kind of already…have plans."

A puzzled expression made its way onto Brittany's face. "But it's 8:30 in the morning, San. How do you already have plans?"

Santana began playing with her hands in her lap—this was exactly the conversation she wanted to avoid. She wasn't ready to talk about Quinn with Brittany. "I'm going to get coffee with a friend."

"What, like a date?" Brittany asked, and Santana could tell she was having trouble understanding.

"No, Brittany, not a date," she hastened to set the girl straight. "I ran into Quinn a couple of days ago and we didn't have a lot of time to catch up, so we decided to get coffee." It wasn't a complete lie; Santana and Quinn weren't able to thoroughly and completely catch up, and it most definitely was not a date.

Brittany cocked her head sideways in confusion. "Quinn? That midget, blonde Cheerio with a really round head who tried to take over everything after all of you guys graduated?"

"_No_, Brittany," Santana said as she ground her teeth together, trying to suppress the impending anger. Brittany may be one of the sweetest people to ever exist, but her ditzy-ness was sometimes enough to drive a person crazy. "Quinn. Quinn Fabray. The last 1/3 of the Unholy Trinity?"

Santana saw the lightbulb go off in Brittany's head and sighed in relief.

"Oh! Quinn who fell into the ashtray during senior year Quinn. Got it." Brittany nodded and grinned widely, clearly pleased with her deduction skills.

Santana got up from the bed and made her way to the closet. "Yeah, and I'm already running late. I'm supposed to meet her in," she glanced at the clock quickly, "like, 30 minutes. Crap."

"Speaking of crap, you look like you went swimming in alcohol last night, San. You look awful. No offense." Brittany sat up on the bed and watched as Santana searched through her clothes.

"Okay, well, I got a total of 3 hours of sleep last night. Cut me some slack." She took a pair of white skinny jeans off the hanger and a black V-neck to go with them and walked into the bathroom.

"So," Brittany began loudly so Santana could hear her from the other room, "you went out and partied last night, probably got your sweet lady kisses on with some girl, and now you're going on a date with Quinn?" She was truly perplexed by the situation—not that that was a surpise.

Santana came back into the bedroom fully clothed. _Fuck. For being so erratic and whimsical Brittany sure didn't miss a thing sometimes._

"It's not a date, Britt, I already told you," Santana said in the firmest voice she could muster. "But," she added in a lighter tone as she sat on the end of the bed and began to lace up her Converse, "it was actually two girls." She threw a wink at Brittany and grinned. The blonde girl knit her eyebrows together in confusion but didn't say anything.

Santana stood up and looked at herself in the mirror: Brittany was right, she _did_ look like she had a rough night. Though her makeup had, for the most part, remained intact, there were slight bags under her eyes and her skin looked a little paler than usual. There had been worse nights, though, so Santana was relatively pleased with what she saw. She didn't look _entirely _hung-over. Just slightly. Besides, this wasn't a date and she didn't have anyone to impress.

"Alright, Britt, I really have to go now. I'll see you later. And don't forget, if you make tea, you have to turn the burner on the stove _off_ after you're done." Santana looked at Brittany's reflection through the mirror and was surprised to see a look of hurt on her face. No matter what happened, the last thing Santana ever wanted to do was hurt Brittany. She still loved the girl—maybe not in the same way she once did, but she would still do anything to make Brittany happy.

Santana walked over to her and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be home after a while. Call Berry or Kurt, maybe they'll come over and watch Disney movies with you." Brittany brightened up at the idea and Santana smiled.

"Tell Quinn I said hi," Brittany said.

"I will, Britt. See you later." Santana walked out of the room, leaving Brittany on the bed playing with her phone.

_One blonde down, one to go._

* * *

"You look terrible."

Santana slid into the booth where Quinn was waiting for her with a roll of her eyes. When she had arrived at the coffee shop—a little place in lower Manhattan you wouldn't know even existed unless you had a psychic, Mexican third eye that could detect the world's best cup of coffee—and Quinn had already been there. She had quickly ordered her usual and made her way over to the girl.

"And I still look better than you, Fabray," Santana said with a smirk. _Not even close to being true_, Santana thought to herself as she gave Quinn a once-over glance. Her hair was straight today and she was wearing one of her customary sundresses; it was a gentle blue color that contrasted with her striking eyes magnificently. It was 9:30 in the morning and the blonde already looked like a goddess from your wildest dreams.

Quinn ignored Santana's wisecrack. "Rough night?" she asked with a slight, meaningful smile.

Santana was about to answer with a quick "no" but a chair on the other side of the room scraped against the floor and the sound reverberated through her skull making her wince in pain. Quinn chuckled.

"Awe poor baby," she said with mock sympathy, looking at Santana with wide eyes.

"Hmm," Santana hummed in response as she picked up her coffee to take a sip. Her eyes landed on Quinn's bag lying next to her on the bench; it looked to be filled to the point where it was almost ripping at the seams, and Santana could tell it was heavy. "What's in the bag?"

Quinn shrugged her shoulders. "Textbooks. I have to go to the library once we're done here."

Santana furrowed her brow. "The library? They make you work at the library when you're a lawyer?"

"No," Quinn replied simply, "I have a test tomorrow."

"They give you tests when you're a lawyer?" Santana felt like she had completely missed something.

Quinn smiled. "It's not for work, Santana, it's for _school_."

"School?" Santana asked blankly. She had definitely missed something. "I thought you said you graduated?"

"I did," Quinn nodded in agreement, "From Yale."

"Well what the hell does that mean?"

"A person doesn't become a lawyer in just 4 years, Santana. Even I can't do that," Quinn answered in a haughty voice, and even though she was smiling warmly, Santana caught a momentary glimpse of the old Quinn—the Quinn she would have slapped in a heartbeat, even if they were in a public place.

"Okay, so if you're not at Yale, but you're still in school, you currently attend…?" Santana trailed off, prompting Quinn to help her out.

"Columbia," Quinn said simply as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

Santana gawked at her. "Jeeze, Q, are you just making your rounds with the Ivy League schools? What's next? Princeton? Harvard?" Santana was only half joking. Quinn blinked a few times in surprise, taken aback by Santana's casual use of her old nickname.

She shook her head trying to straighten out her thoughts. "No, no, definitely not. I'm done after Columbia, don't worry."

"How many years do you have left?"

Quinn picked up her coffee and took a drink. She held up three long, slender fingers in reply and Santana nodded in acknowledgement before going quiet.

Santana suddenly narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I thought you had a job?" she inquired.

"I do. Well, technically."

"Could you _be_ more vague, Blondie?"

Quinn giggled, sending a familiar wave of tingles crashing over Santana's skin. "I guess you can't really consider it a 'job' job. It's more of an internship. One of my professors is one of the most popular DA's around the city and she picked 4 students to basically shadow her all year long. We get to go to court with her and be there when she questions the witnesses, but she also asks for a lot of input from us. I can't even count the times we've had to stay up all night rifling through every one of the books in the library trying to come up with a plausible defense for our client." Her voice was soft and casual, but Santana couldn't wrap her head around what Quinn was saying—it was all too impressive.

"Quinn, I just…I don't even know what to say to you. That's awesome." Santana smiled a genuine smile and Quinn gave her one in return.

"Thank you," she said.

"Are you just saying and doing all of these things to try and impress me?" Santana joked.

"No," Quinn answered with a shake of her head. "If I wanted to impress you I would do something much different," she said smoothly in her voice that was so sexy in itself it should be illegal—or so Santana would say. Quinn was biting her bottom lip, a sly twinkle in her eyes. Santana's own eyes widened in shock as she felt her heartrate increase exponentially.

"Right," she responded quietly, not knowing what else to say. Santana avoided looking Quinn in the eyes, fully aware that she would be totally lost if she did. Her thoughts were now filled with nothing but the lone night with Quinn 3 years ago. Santana didn't understand how one, single night could change your whole perspective of a person—especially when that person was Quinn Fabray. She had always thought Quinn was attractive, she wasn't proud enough to deny that. But Santana had never thought of her in an actual, romantic manner until Mr. Schue's crap wedding. And now that was the only way she could see Quinn. Being able to kiss her whenever she wanted, being able to reach over and grab her hand…Santana couldn't think of anything she wanted more at the moment. It felt like she couldn't control her thoughts or her feelings towards Quinn. And Santana Lopez hated feeling out of control.

"I have a question," Quinn stated abruptly as she pulled Santana out of her thoughts.

"What's that?" Santana asked, taking another sip of her coffee.

"Well," Quinn began while she clasped her hands together on the table, "I was thinking about what you said the other day on the train." Santana's heart launched itself into overdrive again and she racked her brains thinking about every little thing she had said. "I know you said you found the bookstore a while ago, but I was kind of just wondering _how_ you found it? I mean, Yale's not exactly in your backyard. So you were obviously in New Haven for a reason, and I was curious as to what that reason was?"

Santana thought she was about to enter into cardiac arrest as she tried to control her breathing. _Crap, crap, crap_, she said to herself. She had been hoping she would never have to face this question. But of course Quinn picked up on Santana being in New Haven for undisclosed reasons. _Of fucking course._

"Uhh…umm…ahh…yeah about that," Santana spluttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Quinn raised her eyebrows.

"You know, for liking girls so much you sort of suck at talking to them," Quinn teased gently with a smile. Santana shot her a half grin in return, not trusting her voice just yet. Quinn waited patiently until Santana sifted through her thoughts. Santana finally decided there was no way to avoid the question at hand and sighed resignedly.

Santana could hear her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears and vaguely wondered if Quinn could actually see her heart hammering through her chest. She cleared her throat before starting. "Umm, well, you know how people always say you only need 30 seconds of insane courage to make something incredible happen?" Quinn nodded but said nothing so Santana continued, "Okay, well, my 30 seconds of insane courage came 2 weeks after we saw each other at Mr. Schue's wedding. Uhh, I'm not completely sure why, but I couldn't really stop thinking about what happened between us. Maybe I was still trying to get over Brittany, I don't know. But I kind of felt the need to…see you again. And talk to you. I didn't really have a plan, but one day after class I just hopped on a train to New Haven. My 30 seconds of courage, however, ran out when I stepped off onto the platform in Connecticut. I didn't know what I would do when I saw you or what I would say. I didn't even know if you would want to see me, so I just ditched the whole idea. I started walking around town to try and clear my mind and everything, and that's how I stumbled upon the bookstore."

Santana averted Quinn's eyes her entire speech, but now she chanced a glance at them. They were gentle and kind, and Santana felt overwhelmed with emotion. She moved her eyes back to her fiddling hands in her lap. She had nervous energy and started to regret admitting the truth.

"You could have called me, you know," Quinn eventually said quietly. Santana looked up and there was a smile playing on the edges of Quinn's lips. "I would have loved to see you."

"Really?" Santana asked, trying not to let desperation weigh down her voice.

"Really," Quinn affirmed with a nod and Santana felt her heart soar.

"I just…you know…didn't know if you regretted what happened or anything…" Santana told her.

Quinn scrunched up her face in confusion. "Is that what you thought? That I regretted it?"

Santana chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about the best way to respond. "I honestly didn't know. I mean you…you're Quinn and I'm me and…I don't know. I don't think anyone ever expected it to happen."

"I didn't. Regret it, I mean. Not for a single second." Quinn's voice firm, but it didn't lose its natural softness. Santana nodded as she began to think about what everything meant—but a weight definitely seemed to be lifted off her chest upon hearing Quinn admit she had no regrets. "Did you?" Quinn asked and Santana thought she could sense hesitancy behind the question. Or fear.

"What? No!" she said loudly. Santana needed Quinn to know she wasn't merely a rebound hookup that night—even if that's technically what she started out as. "No, Quinn," Santana said as she lowered her voice, "I promise you. I didn't regret it. I don't."

Quinn smiled slightly and looked away. Santana's heart was still racing and her skin was layered in goose bumps as it so often was in Quinn's presence, but she was pleased with how the situation was going.

"What do you think you would have said to me had you seen me in New Haven?" Quinn inquired, her eyes returning to Santana's. "I know you said you didn't have a plan, but if you had to venture a guess, what do you think you would have said?"

Santana tilted her head in thought. "I probably would have asked you if you wanted to make it a three time thing," she replied honestly with a sheepish smile. "I'm not super good with words or emotions—unless it's an insult—as I have proven to you today, so I would've kept it simple. Short and sweet."

"Yes, because that is _incredibly_ sweet," Quinn joked.

"Whatever, I'm just trying to be honest with you."

"Santana Lopez being honest. I like it," she said, her hazel eyes sparkling and Santana felt her skin heat up.

"Can I ask you something?" Santana said in a quiet voice.

"Of course."

"Why didn't you call afterwards? Or text me? Or tell me you moved to New York City, for that matter. I spent all that time wondering if you hated me for what happened…" Santana trailed off.

Quinn suddenly reached across the table and grabbed Santana's hand. The gesture sent a shock through Santana's body and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Hey," Quinn said gently, and Santana locked eyes with her, "Santana, I could never hate you for what happened. It's not like you forced me into bed with you. I got in willingly. Incredibly willingly, to be honest. I didn't call you after it happened because I was scared. I mean, I shouldn't be having any kind of feelings towards Santana Lopez of all people. I figured what happened that night didn't mean anything to you. Not because you're a terrible person or because I hated you, but because it was _me._ You said it yourself; it was you and it was me. It was _us_. And no, I didn't regret it. I still don't, but I just assumed you did."

"You're an ass," Santana stated, but she was smiling. "Of course it meant something to me, Quinn. Maybe I should have told you the morning after, but it meant more to me than you will ever know."

"So I wasn't just a rebound?" Quinn asked in a small voice, and Santana felt a twinge of guilt.

She stared at their clasped hands as she answered. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't start out that way. Brittany was there with Sam, and it was so soon after we broke up and everything. I was pissed and lonely and hurt. But I swear, Quinn," Santana said in a firm voice as she gripped Quinn's hand tighter, "it didn't end up like that. Somewhere along the way I realized I wasn't going to regret sleeping with you. At first I figured it was just the alcohol talking, but eventually I discovered it was more than that. So much more. And then we walked away from each other."

Quinn nodded absentmindedly. "And then we walked away from each other," she repeated in a distant voice. "Maybe we shouldn't have done that." She looked at Santana and smiled.

"We definitely should not have done that," Santana agreed.

"We're here now, though. In the same city and everything," Quinn pointed out.

"And what does that mean exactly?"

Quinn cocked her head to the side looking thoughtful. "Whatever we want it to mean."

Santana scoffed. "Helpful, Quinn, real helpful."

Quinn rolled her eyes and grinned. "Fine. It means that, if we are both willing, we could give this thing a shot. I'm not saying it's going to work, Santana, because as we've already established, it's us. And we have quite the history. But I do know that for the past 3 years, I haven't been able to go on a single date without wondering what you were doing at that very moment."

All of the hesitancy and resistance Santana had built up regarding her feelings for Quinn melted away in an instant. Her heart swelled at Quinn's last words.

"And if I'm being honest, my one night stands have all been driven by my need to get you the hell out of my mind." She wasn't as eloquent as Quinn, but she knew the girl would get the gist of it.

"Good to know," Quinn responded. "So, we're agreed then? We'll see where this whole thing takes us?"

Santana nodded. "Absolutely. But, just so you know," she added with a broad smile, "I am willing to do whatever it takes to make this work between us. I want you to know I'm in this for real, Quinn. I don't usually do relationships, but I think I can make an exception for you."

"So freaking charming," Quinn said, her grin widening. "We'll take things slowly…"

"Or we could just jump right into things?" Santana suggested with a smirk.

"We will take things slowly," Quinn repeated in a stronger, firmer voice.

Santana laughed at the expression on Quinn's face. _She's so damn cute when she's trying to be responsible and sensible. And when she's doing everything else. Ugh._

"Okay," Santana conceded. "We will take things slowly."

"Thank you," Quinn said with a smile. "But, unfortunately, I have to be go now; my study group is meeting in a little while." She threw her bag over her shoulder and looked at Santana, who was now pouting.

"Don't go," she whined, sticking her bottom lip out for effect.

"You're cute when you're moping," Quinn told her. Santana felt her breath catch in her throat—it was the first time either of the girls had said words like that out loud to each other.

But she rolled her eyes. "I am not _cute._"

"Oh, but you are. So very cute." Quinn wiggled her eyebrows, daring Santana to challenge her.

"Whatever," Santana huffed. She removed her hand from Quinn's grasp and crossed her arms. Her reaction elicited a laugh from Quinn as she stood up from the booth.

"This has been lovely, Santana, and I'm sorry I have to go so quickly. But," she said as she turned to leave, "I will talk to you later. That's a promise." Quinn grinned at her one last time before heading towards the door.

"Hey, Fabray!" Santana called. Quinn turned around, eyebrows raised in question. "It's your turn to call _me_ this time." Santana winked at her.

"Your wish is my command," Quinn answered, and Santana could see her eyes sparkle from 15 yards away. With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the coffee shop, leaving a very satisfied Santana behind.


	6. Chapter 6

I greatly apologize for the long wait. It was midterm week and I had to (try to, at least) prioritize my life for a little while. However, I am back! And with 2 new chapters for you! These 2 were originally one very long chapter, but I decided it would be best to break them up. Hope you enjoy :)

* * *

Quinn waited an entire 60 minutes before calling.

After Quinn had left the coffee shop Santana had stayed a while after to finish her coffee and go back over the entire conversation she and Quinn had. It all seemed kind of sudden; she and Quinn had only reconnected a few days ago, and it had been years since they last talked. But Santana also realized thinking in depth about things didn't always produce positive results, so she let it go. Life was too short to worry if this whole thing with Quinn was too sudden. She eventually decided she should head home so Brittany didn't worry, but she walked at a leisurely pace on the way back, lost in her thoughts.

Santana was walking up the steps to the loft when she felt her phone vibrating in her back pocket. She assumed it was Brittany or Rachel or Kurt calling to ask her where she was and rolled her eyes. They may be her best friends, but sometimes they needed to just mind their own business and let Santana do her thing.

But when she pulled out her phone and saw the caller ID, Santana grinned.

"Hello?" she said as she brought the phone to her ear.

"So I was going to call you a half hour ago, but I didn't want to seem over-anxious," Quinn said sweetly on the other end of the line.

Santana let out a chuckle. "Right, because calling just an hour after seeing someone doesn't seem anxious _at all_." She reached the landing to the loft and leaned against the outside of the door, not wanting anyone inside to hear the conversation.

"Fine. I could hang up and call back in a few hours?" Quinn suggested and Santana could hear the smile in her voice.

Santana suddenly realized how much she already missed Quinn's voice, even though they had been together literally an hour ago.

"No, no," Santana said quickly, not wanting the conversation to end, "60 minutes is plenty of time to go without speaking."

Quinn giggled and even over the phone it was a heavenly sound. "Now who's the anxious one?"

"Whatever. So what's up? Any specific reason you called?" Santana asked sounding hopeful. She knew Quinn wanted to take things slowly—and she genuinely didn't have a problem with that—but that didn't mean Santana wanted to go absurd lengths of time without seeing or talking to Quinn.

"You told me to call you, didn't you? So here I am. Calling you."

Santana felt her heart sink a little when Quinn didn't say anything further. "Oh," she said so quietly she wasn't sure Quinn had even heard her at first.

"Santana, I'm kidding!" Quinn laughed and Santana let out a deep breath. "I can't believe you actually went for that. I was calling to see if you wanted to hang out Thursday night."

"Like a date?" The words were out of Santana's mouth before she realized what she said. She slapped her hand to her forehead, immediately resenting her lack of impulse control.

"Mmm," Quinn replied as she thought about her response, "not necessarily. I'm not sure that would constitute as taking things slowly. I was thinking we could just, you know, hang out and…see where it takes us?" Quinn was hesitant with her wording, and it seemed like she was doing everything she could to keep Santana's temper intact.

Santana nodded to herself, agreeing with Quinn. She was too embarrassed to get mad at the fact hanging out with Quinn wasn't considered a date just yet. "Right, yeah, of course. Sorry." She took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. "Thursday night sounds great."

"Awesome. I will text you later in the week with details."

"There are details?" Santana asked with her eyebrows raised.

"Yes, don't worry about it. I will talk to you later, Santana," Quinn ended the conversation abruptly and hung up, leaving Santana gaping at the lack of information. She slid her phone into her back pocket and ran her hands through her hair before turning around and entering the loft.

She was met with two pairs of eyes staring at her from the couch.

"You two are aware you no longer live here, right?" Santana asked in an irritated voice, not even bothering to look at Kurt and Rachel as she made her way over and flung herself in the chair next to them.

"Britt called me," Kurt explained shortly, looking back towards the television. He and Rachel seemed to be watching some reality show about makeovers. _Thank God they don't actually still live here,_ Santana thought inwardly.

"And I was with Kurt when Britt called, so I just came along for the Disney movies. Which we finished watching only about 25 minutes ago," Rachel chirped to no one in particular because Santana really wasn't listening.

Santana glanced around the loft. "Where is Britt?" She still didn't feel like discussing Quinn with Brittany, but Santana also remembered the look on Brittany's face earlier and wanted to make sure she was okay.

Kurt turned back to her. "Oh, Sam came by after his shoot and took her to lunch. You just missed them."

Santana had a hard time caring that she hadn't seen Sam, and it wasn't just because he could be credited with breaking Santana and Brittany up. No, it was more than that. His lips were huge, his impressions weren't great, and he wasn't as innocent as he seemed. In high school, Sam had dated half of girls in glee club, never seeming to care it made him look like a man-whore. _Whatever_, Santana thought. He wasn't worth her time.

The three friends sat in silence for a few moments before Rachel spoke up. "So how was your date with Quinn?" she asked in a controlled voice, and Santana could tell she had been waiting from the time she walked into the loft to interrogate her about it. Santana looked pointedly at Kurt, indicating that she didn't want to talk about it in front of him, but Rachel impatiently waved her hand. "I already filled him in on everything. He knows."

Santana gawked at the girl in disbelief before looking at Kurt, who smiled widely. "It's true, I do. And I must say, I have always been under the impression that Quinn Fabray would never even explore the realm of Sapphic relations so this does come as quite the shock to me. However," he continued as he clapped his hands together, "the more I thought about it, the more sense you and Quinn being together made. You guys have this sort of fire and ice thing going on between the two of you. It works. The actual thought of you being in love with Quinn is somewhat disturbing and terrifying, but I also think you girls balance each other out."

"Okay, first of all," Santana started, "Berry, I can't believe you actually told him without my permission!" She glared at Rachel threateningly but then turned to Kurt. "And second of all, I am not in love with anybody. We literally just had coffee. That is all that happened."

"But you want more to happen, right?" Rachel pressed. "I'm assuming from the look on your face, and the fact you didn't even lay a finger on me for telling Kurt means the coffee date went well and you'll be seeing more of Quinn?" The girl could be irritating as hell sometimes, but damn was she perceptive.

Santana rolled her eyes and tried to neutralize her expression, not wanting to give anything else away. "God, fine, yes, okay? The whole coffee thing went well. And I'm seeing her on Thursday."

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise. "Like a date?" he echoed Santana's words from her conversation with Quinn.

"No," Santana stressed, "not a date. She wants to take things slowly."

"And you're okay with that?" Rachel asked in a confused voice.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Santana felt the irritation rush through her body and she took a deep breath.

"It's just, Santana…" Rachel began but Kurt quickly cut in.

"You do realize if you're actually going to try this thing with Quinn—and I mean actually try dating her or whatever—you're going to have to stop your womanizing tendencies? No more random, drunken one night stands with women you pick up at the bar? No more all night bar crawls? Not even Quinn Fabray can handle all of that. Is this really what you want?" Kurt rested his hands on his crossed legs as though he had just made the most assertive, undeniable argument ever.

Santana sat back in the chair and closed her eyes as Kurt's words registered with her. Is this what she really wanted? Santana loved skating through life with no commitment and no strings attached. She lived for the Friday and Saturday nights when she didn't work so she could down abhorrent amounts of alcohol and forget about everything. She was 22 years old and worked as a bartender while attempting to graduate college; it's not what you would call a glamorous life.

She'd always had a problem with self-esteem. Growing up in Lima Heights proved to be more difficult than she could have ever imagined; all throughout grade school whenever a teacher found out where she was from they would write her off in an instant. Assume she wasn't good at anything and was destined to work on a pole for the rest of her life. Working as a bartender wasn't too far from that in Santana's mind. Sure, she was going to graduate in 3 years, but what about until then? She needed a way to ease the pain of living up to the Lima Heights stereotype until she could break out of the mold. And alcohol and sex were the perfect remedies.

Nonetheless, there was also a part of Santana that knew she could do better. The string of random hookups were all fun and games until the morning after when she woke up without a single memory of the events from the previous night, with a stranger in bed beside her. That part made Santana feel empty inside. She wanted more—wanted _someone_ more. Yet, every weekend she didn't work ended up the same way: long nights at the bar followed by alcohol-induced sex with a woman she didn't even know, all leading up to a raging hangover the next day.

But then Quinn came sweeping into her life only days ago, in all of her grace and elegance with her hazel eyes and angelic voice, and made Santana's mind fuzzy and clustered with thoughts and emotions. She hadn't felt anything towards anyone since Brittany, and lord knows how that went. But Santana was tired of taking strangers to bed. She was tired of having to consume excessive amounts of alcohol to numb herself enough to not think about anything. She didn't know if this thing with Quinn was going to last, but she'd be damned if she didn't try.

Santana opened her eyes and nodded at Kurt and Rachel, who had been waiting patiently as she mulled over her thoughts. "This is what I want. Quinn and I may have only spent one night together years ago, but it clearly turned into something I wasn't expecting, considering I still have lingering feelings about it. I'm sick of feeling like a freeloader in this godforsaken world—I need something, or someone, to prove to me my life isn't a train wreck, that I'm not worth nothing. I don't know if that thing is Quinn," she amended quickly once Rachel and Kurt's faces lit up with excitement. _Of course she is, you self-destructive moron_, "but I do know that I would be a fool to pass her up. And I might be a lot of things, but I am most definitely not a fool." And with that, Santana got up from the chair and made her way to her bedroom area of the loft, snapping the curtain closed behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

Thursday night Santana walked towards Quinn's apartment at a slow, unhurried pace. The night was unusually warm with a gentle breeze, even though it was nearing the end of September; it was like summer didn't want to waste away completely and was staying around for as long as it possibly could.

Quinn had texted her earlier in the week with her apartment's address, telling Santana to meet her at 7 o'clock, and that she had something she wanted to show Santana. Santana had no idea what she was getting herself into, but realized she didn't care as she neared the building. As long as Quinn was there, it really didn't matter what they did.

Santana reached the address promptly at 7—a large apartment complex in Upper Manhattan—and glanced around. For being in New York City, Quinn had managed to find a seemingly quiet corner of the place; the street her building was located on was relatively quiet and quaint, with little traffic and small stores and boutiques lining it on either side. Santana could smell the distinct smell of coffee and wasn't surprised there must have been a shop within walking distance—Quinn had always loved her coffee. It was peaceful and serene, which wasn't something you found too often in the city, and Santana realized just how fitting it was for Quinn.

She walked up the few steps to the front door and was met with an older man who had a kind face. He opened the door for Santana and stepped aside so she could enter.

"Good evening, miss," he said with a smile, "Who are you here to see tonight?"

Santana was about to answer when a voice came drifting across the lobby.

"She's with me, Gary," Quinn answered as she approached the two with a grin. Santana looked at her and felt her heart pounding in her chest. _This is ridiculous_, she thought to herself, _she's hardly even looked at me and I'm getting fucking heart palpitations. Absolutely ridiculous._

The doorman, Gary, inclined his head slightly. "Of course, Miss Fabray. You two ladies have a good evening."

"You do the same, Gary," Quinn told him. She motioned for Santana to follow her and began to walk in the direction she had just come from. Santana threw a smile in Gary's direction and caught up to Quinn. While the girl's back was still to her, Santana continued her new tradition of looking Quinn over from top to bottom, taking everything in. As per usual, she was dressed in a sundress—Santana genuinely wondered if the blonde owned much else—but looked amazing, also as per usual. Her dress was navy with a white collar falling down to just above her knees, and Quinn's hair was straight again; except this time, she had a braid on either side of her head and they came together in the back and flowed down into the rest of her blonde hair.

"Do you own anything but dresses?" Santana thought out loud and pulled up short when she realized the words came out of her mouth. _She was wearing jeans and a blouse on the train, you idiot. Of course she has other clothes._ Quinn turned to her with an amused look on her face. "Uhh…wow, I'm sorry," Santana stumbled, feeling the heat flood her face in embarrassment, "I have no idea where that came from, I just…" She looked down at her feet to avoid staring into the hazel eyes. But when Quinn giggled Santana took it as a sign she was still in good graces with the girl and brought her gaze up. Quinn was grinning widely and her eyes were sparkling.

"Yes, I do actually, believe it or not," Quinn replied. She turned around again and walked to the elevator, hitting the up arrow. Santana followed in her footsteps to stand beside her. "But hey it's almost fall and I won't be able to wear dresses then. I'm just getting good use out of them while I can. Don't be hating." She looked sideways at Santana, still smiling.

"No, no, I'm not. I mean, you look good in anything," Santana rushed to set the record straight. "I was just wondering…" she trailed off lamely not sure how to finish. She was drowning in her words and Quinn noticed it; she reached out and patted Santana's shoulder gently.

"Thank you for the compliment, but seriously, Santana? You need to work on this whole talking to girls thing. You used to be much better at it," Quinn teased and it earned her a playful smack to the arm from Santana.

"I am _so_ good at talking to girls, Q, always have been, always will be. You better watch it."

Quinn just rolled her eyes in response as the elevator doors finally opened and they walked in. Quinn punched the button for floor 25 with her thumb.

"You live on the top floor?" Santana asked, eyebrows arched in question.

"Yes," Quinn said with a nod, "but we're not going to my apartment." There was a mischievous gleam in her eyes and Santana's pulse quickened—like it always did now when Quinn was within sight.

"Well then where are we going?"

"You'll see," Quinn stated simply with a smile.

The elevator slowly ascended through the building, shuddering and rattling, until it finally reached the topmost floor with a ding. The doors opened and Quinn walked out and set off down the hallway, Santana trailing in her wake. They passed doors to numerous apartments, and Santana wondered which one was Quinn's. She was about to pose the question when Quinn stopped in her tracks in front of a particular door at the end of the hall. Santana quickly came to a halt behind her, not wanting to crash into Quinn, and waited patiently. Quinn bit her lip as she turned the doorknob to open the door and she suddenly looked shy. Santana knit her eyebrows together in confusion at Quinn's abrupt change in demeanor, but followed her through the door and up the set of steps that were behind it. At the top of the steps Quinn stopped and opened yet `another door. She stepped back so Santana could go first. When Santana crossed over the threshold of the door she gasped slightly.

They were on the roof of Quinn's apartment building. _Obviously_. The area was longer than it was wide, and there were Christmas lights hanging from the side of the building. Not that they were really needed: though Quinn's neighborhood seemed to be relatively removed from the hustle and bustle of the city, you could see for miles out in front of you from the roof. The lights of buildings all over twinkled and sparkled above and below, casting a soft, dim light on the roof, and Santana moved forward to the edge to get a better view. Her hands rested on the waist-high wall as she looked down. The street below wasn't the one the building's front door was on, because it was busy and loud. People walking down the sidewalks, cars moving along slowly on the road. It was beautiful, it was breathtaking, and it was perfect.

"This is one of my favorite places in the world," Quinn said softly from behind Santana. She turned around to face the girl and tilted her head, urging Quinn to explain. "It's like, you're still a part of the city because you can see and hear everything that goes on. But you're also removed from it all, like you're watching some other world carry on while you just sit back and watch. I don't know, maybe it's stupid, but it's relaxing." Quinn had made her way over to stand beside Santana as she spoke, her eyes trained on the view.

"No," Santana responded in a whisper, "It's not stupid. Not at all." She was still faced in the opposite direction of Quinn, and took the time to really study Quinn's features. The sun had long set and the only source of light came from the moon high in the sky, the mass lights from the city, and the Christmas lights. It wasn't much though, and Quinn's face was somewhat darkened; but by now, after countless daydreams and fantasies, Santana knew her well enough.

Santana realized how much she had always taken for granted when it came to Quinn's beauty. Her lips were a soft, pale pink and Santana remembered how good they had felt against her skin 3 years ago. Quinn's eyelashes were long, and they made her impossibly hazel eyes even more alluring. Her cheekbones and jawline looked like they had been hand-sculpted to perfection; they were gently curved and prominent, and Santana couldn't find a single flaw in the blonde's overall appearance.

"I come up here to get away from the craziness of the world," Quinn told Santana suddenly as she turned around to face her.

"Don't people ever bother you though?" Santana asked curiously, and Quinn bit her lip in embarrassment.

"They don't actually. After I found this place I paid the maintenance guy extra to change the lock on the door and give me one of the two keys—he has the other one. As far as everyone else in the building is concerned, you're not allowed on the roof unless you're maintenance personnel." Quinn grinned proudly and Santana nodded in agreement.

"Impressive, Quinn, very impressive."

The two girls fell into a familiar, comfortable silence as they both leaned against the wall, taking in the view; Quinn turned around again to look out over the city, while Santana kept herself facing away, stealing a glance at the blonde every few seconds. A couple of moments passed before Quinn spoke up again.

"Are you happy with your life?" Quinn asked. Out of the corner of her eyes Santana could see Quinn looking at her, but she refused to meet the eye contact. It was a random question and it completely took Santana off guard, but she knew Quinn wouldn't ask if she wasn't genuinely interested in the answer.

"Hmm," Santana dragged the word out as she thought about the truth. "Honestly, I don't know. I mean, I know it could be worse. I have a roof over my head, a relatively stable job, and I'm graduating in a few years."

"But?" Quinn prompted, sensing the hesitancy in Santana's words.

"But I feel like there's more. Something I'm not seeing. Something I'm completely missing. I guess it's no surprise that after Brittany and I broke up I turned to booze and sex to try to clear my mind. Or at least numb it." Santana chanced a glance at Quinn and saw a sad, knowing smile. Kindness and curiosity filled Quinn's eyes, and for some unknown reason Santana didn't feel awkward talking about her feelings with Quinn, as she usually did with other people. "Somewhere in the middle of it all it lost its appeal. I was just so damaged and confused, I kept going with the whole one night stand thing because it gave me something to do."

"Why do you still do it then? I mean I guess I get why at first, but all these years later, you still take random women to bed with you. Why?" Quinn's voice was calm, but Santana thought she could hear a flare of anger in the words.

"Well, then there was the whole thing with you and Mr. Schue's wedding. After it all, I had no clue why I was still thinking about it because it was _one night _for God's sake and I just wanted to drown my thoughts and emotions. Come on, Quinn, you know me. Self-esteem has never been my high point. Feelings never were my thing, and I just got sick of seeing myself as weak and broken." She had no idea why she was divulging all of this to Quinn, but she felt like she owed it to her.

Quinn nodded in acknowledgement but didn't say anything for a few seconds. "You know," she started as she turned to completely face Santana, who mirrored the movement, "one day, someone will come along and make you forget all about the pain. They'll make it seem like a bad dream. They will make you realize you are not, and never were, broken; that person will, instead, help you see that sometimes, the first person you ever thought you couldn't live without, was just another lesson to learn from. They will make you feel things you've never felt, and think things you've never thought. That person," Quinn said in a soft voice, and she reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Santana's ear, her fingers lingering along Santana's jawline, "will make you rethink everything you thought you knew about love, and they will make you a better person for it."

Santana swallowed the words that were about to tumble out of her mouth—she didn't want to chase Quinn away for moving too quickly only days after they reconnected. _I want that person to be you_. Instead, she nodded her head jerkily, her eyes still locked on Quinn's hazel ones. Their faces were mere inches from each other and every nerve in Santana's body was urging her to close the distance between their lips, but she ignored the temptation. Her eyes, though, couldn't resist the urge to flick towards Quinn's lips quickly and then back up to Quinn's own eyes. Santana waited for her to make the next move, to say something or do something.

Quinn tilted her head sideways and she seemed to be thinking about something. Santana could feel the tension rising in her chest in the silence and she clenched her fists at her side. Quinn finally let out a deep breath and whispered, apparently to herself, "Screw it."

Her next movement seemed to happen in slow motion: she closed her eyes and brushed her lips lightly against Santana's before crushing them together, doing what Santana had wanted to do from the time she saw Quinn on the train. Her hands moved to both sides of Santana's face and cupped it gently. Santana instinctively snaked her arms around Quinn's waist, pulling her even closer and the building pressure she had started to feel dissolved in an instant.

A cliché. That's what the kiss was. There were the metaphorical fireworks erupting in each of their minds, and a warm, tingling sensation shot through their entire bodies. But it was the most explosive cliché either girl had ever experienced. Fire met ice as a feeling of total peace and serenity fell over them, making them feel like everything in their lives had led up to this moment, this kiss.

Quinn quickly deepened the kiss, running her tongue over Santana's bottom lip. Santana opened her mouth to grant Quinn's tongue entrance and moaned in pleasure; she wasn't used to the one being controlled—she was normally the one doing the controlling of things—but her body reacted differently to Quinn's. It was electrifying, it was magnetic. Santana let her own tongue roam free, exploring every inch of the inside of Quinn's mouth. Santana moved her hands to Quinn's hips and gripped tightly, refusing to let go of the girl. Their lips moved in unison, as though they knew each other's every next move.

After a few seconds the girls became aware of their need for oxygen and broke apart, leaning their foreheads against one another and slightly out of breath. The girls' lips seared and scorched with satisfying heat. Santana kept her eyes shut, not wanting the moment to ever end. Her heart was beating faster than ever and the effect the kiss was having on her made her question every other kiss she had had in her life.

"You're not broken, Santana," Quinn breathed. She leaned in for another kiss, but kept it quick and chaste before pulling back again. Her hands still held Santana's face in place and when she opened her eyes Santana had no choice but to stare at Quinn. Quinn's lips were red and swollen from the force of the kiss, but she still looked beautiful as ever. The look on Quinn's face practically knocked the wind out of her and made her knees weak; it was one of pure and unadulterated care and kindness. It made Santana feel like the only person on the face of the earth, and it projected words Quinn didn't need to vocally say—words that made Santana think Quinn was the only person in the world who possessed a key to true living, and it was something Quinn was willing to share with her.

"Thank you," Santana whispered in a raspy voice and Quinn smiled. "So," she continued in a lighter tone, "how long have you wanted to do that?" A grin spread across Santana's face as she saw Quinn's surprised expression at the question.

"You mean with the exception of the last 3 years?" Quinn asked, composing her thoughts. "Since junior year of high school." Santana's eyes widened in shock and she opened her mouth slightly in astonishment.

"Wait, _what_?" she inquired in a strained voice, not sure if she had heard Quinn correctly.

Quinn smiled guiltily as she pulled away from Santana and walked towards the center of the rooftop. Santana saw for the first time since they had arrived a set of lounge chairs and a pair of wicker chairs positioned beside each other. Quinn took a seat on the end of one of the long, cushioned pieces of furniture. She clasped her hands in her lap and fiddled with her fingers before looking back over at Santana, who hadn't moved a single inch.

"Yeah, umm, I've kind of wanted to kiss you since junior year. Actually, since you sang 'Landslide' with Miss Holliday and Brittany, to be even more specific." Quinn shrugged her shoulders indifferently.

"Why then?" Santana asked faintly. She felt like she had just run into a brick wall and was trying to remember where she was.

"You were so open and so vulnerable. I had never seen you like that—well, no, not never. You used to be more open about your feelings when we were kids. But it had been a very long time since you had been so explicit about things. Seeing you sing that song…I don't know, it kind of just changed something in me. I saw just how good of a person you are and how much you care about people. Despite what people thought and said, that song proved you had a heart—a heart that was so big and open. You probably made a lot of people fall for you that day, honestly." Quinn's voice was calm and confident, as though she had been waiting a long time—_years, maybe_—to say the words.

Santana gaped at her. "And you didn't say anything?"

Even in the dark Santana could see the eye roll Quinn gave her. "Of course I didn't, Santana. I mean, I know I was a pretty terrible person all throughout high school, but not even I was cruel enough to get between what you and Britt had."

"Brittany and I weren't…" Santana started, but Quinn cut her off.

"Yes, you were," she said firmly. "You were in love with each other, anyone could see it. Maybe you guys hadn't gotten around to actually saying it out loud to one other, but everyone knew it was true."

"Quinn, I don't…I mean, I…I'm sorry…" But Santana stopped when Quinn started shaking her head.

"No, Santana, _please_ don't apologize. It's not your fault. It was just crappy timing on my part."

Santana nodded in response as she made her way over to Quinn and sat down behind her, lying against the back of the lounge chair. She tugged on Quinn's wrist to get her to move positions, and Quinn situated herself in between the girl's legs as she leaned back on Santana's chest. Santana wound her arms around Quinn's waist and rested her chin on Quinn's shoulder.

"I am sorry, though. About everything," Santana murmured in Quinn's ear.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Quinn replied softly as she began tracing circles on Santana's knees, causing goosebumps to arise. "Seriously, it was no one's fault. I dealt with it. I'm fine."

"Yeah, but if I had known I would have…"

"Would have what, Santana?" Quinn interjected, and Santana didn't truthfully know what she would have done. "Dumped Brittany and just come walking my way? Would you have showed up on my doorstep ready to confess your feelings for me? I don't think so. Even if I _had_ told you what I was feeling and by some miracle you had felt even a little bit the same way, it wouldn't have mattered. I couldn't compete with Brittany. I have never been able to compete with Brittany." Santana felt her heart ache with guilt as she recognized the truth in Quinn's words. Though she and Quinn had always been close friends, her relationship with Brittany had been completely different. Until Mr. Schue's wedding, of course.

"High school was years ago, Quinn. It doesn't matter anymore," Santana told her.

"And what does that mean, Santana?"

Santana took a deep breath. "It means, what happened in high school is long over. What I felt in high school is long gone. Right now, there is no competition between you and Brittany. Quinn, there is no competition between you and anybody. Right now, there is just me and you, and nothing else matters."

Quinn cocked her head to the side and Santana could see her grinning. "I like that," she said quietly.

"So do I," Santana affirmed as she nuzzled into Quinn's neck. She inhaled deeply, taking in Quinn's immediately intoxicating scent. It was a mixture of lilac, vanilla, and peppermint and Santana let the smell take over her senses.

Quinn leaned her head back against Santana's shoulder and closed her eyes contentedly. Santana, incredibly comfortable with her cheek resting against Quinn's neck, felt herself drifting off into a light sleep when she suddenly remembered something.

"What did you mean by 'screw it' earlier?" she questioned into the silence.

"Hmm?" Quinn responded, not opening her eyes and Santana wondered if the girl had actually dozed off.

"Before we kissed, you said 'screw it.' I'm kind of just wondering why." Quinn opened her eyes and lifted her head, and from what Santana could see of it, an embarrassed look had made its way onto her face.

"Oh, that. I wasn't going to kiss you at first."

"Why?" Santana asked in horror; she couldn't imagine what would have happened if Quinn hadn't initiated the kiss—and frankly, she didn't want to know.

"Because kissing someone on what you have already established as not a date isn't exactly taking things slowly, is it?" Quinn looked at her with wide, innocent eyes.

"That's no fun," Santana pouted and Quinn grinned.

"I know it's not. Which is why I'm throwing the whole thing out the window. Screw taking things slowly. I say we go at this thing full-force, or we don't go at all." She turned her head to place a kiss on Santana's jawline, and Santana felt her skin heat up at the contact.

"So what does this mean exactly then?"

"In the context of what?"

"I mean, are we…you know…are we dating?" Santana stammered over the words, but was relieved when they came out relatively coherently.

Quinn leaned back again as she thought about it. "Yes," she said with a nod, "we are dating."

"Good answer, Fabray," Santana teased. She squeezed the girl gently and kissed Quinn's shoulder.

"Whatever, Lopez," Quinn threw back.

The next few minutes passed in an easy quietness, neither girl feeling the need to fill the silence with extraneous words. Santana was more content and happy with how things were going than she had been for years, and she could get used to holding Quinn in her arms. It felt right, and she finally felt like she was where she was supposed to be in her life.

"Hey," she said suddenly as a thought dawned on her.

"Yes?" Quinn replied, tilting her head to look at Santana.

"If we're dating, does that mean I get to kiss you whenever I want?"

Quinn's eyes sparkled and she giggled in response. "Yes, Santana," she told her, "that means you get to kiss me whenever you want."


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry it's rather long ;) Enjoy!

* * *

"Hey hot stuff, mind getting me a refill?"

Santana stood up from restocking glasses under the bar and found herself face to face with a short brunette girl who had a repugnant amount of makeup on, and was clad in a tight red dress. She was grinning slyly at Santana in what could only be assumed as an attempt at seduction.

"Yeah, sure," Santana responded. "What are you drinking?"

"Moscow Mule," the girl told her in a sultry voice. Santana nodded and spun around to collect the necessary alcohol from the counter in the middle of the bar.

As she turned around again and began mixing the drink, Santana could see the brunette girl checking her out and she couldn't completely blame her; Santana's tight black jeans hugged her legs and hips in all of the right places, her white tank top showed just the appropriate amount of cleavage while leaving just a little to the imagination, and her leather jacket topped off the simple sexiness of the outfit. Santana knew she looked good; good enough to make anyone—guy or girl—start drooling as soon as they saw her.

"You're pretty good with your hands," the brunette said as she watched Santana quickly and deftly pour and stir her drink. "It makes me wonder what else you can do with them." Santana glanced up and saw a devilish glint in the girl's heavily mascara-ed eyes. Santana slid the standard copper mug the drink is served in over the bar to her with a smirk.

"Please," Santana scoffed, "you have no idea who you're talking to."

The brunette leaned on the countertop, resting her head in the palms of her hands. "Why don't you show me then?" Santana could smell the alcohol on the girl's breath and was repulsed.

"Why don't you go talk to someone you actually stand a chance with?" Santana suggested to her. She was trying to be civil towards the girl, but her patience was dwindling quickly.

"You're saying I don't have a chance with you?" the brunette asked as she smiled seductively, showing her teeth.

"I'm saying," Santana began sweetly, "your makeup, which looks like it was applied by a blind clown who was experiencing an epileptic episode by the way, and your dress that makes it look like you have an excessive amount of back fat are literally causing me physical pain. I mean, I may have to actually call a psychiatrist in order to come back from just the sight of you."

The girl's jaw dropped in shock and Santana grinned with pleasure.

"Bitch," the brunette muttered. She grabbed her drink and walked off, disappearing among the throngs of people in the bar.

Santana continued to smile as she grabbed a towel and began to wipe down countertop. She was used to people—people of both genders—hitting on her as she worked. It basically came with the territory of being a bartender. People would be drinking all night long and stagger up to her, thinking she was the most beautiful human being on the earth. Lost and lonely souls would sit at the counter of the bar for hours on end, seeking her company even though they didn't even know her. Sometimes, if the person was up to Santana's standards, she would indulge them for a little while, stringing them along until she politely rejected them and turned them down. Most of the time, though, Santana would shut them down before they really got started. She didn't want them getting the wrong idea.

"Did you invite me here just to show me other girls flirt with you?" a soft, calm voice asked from behind Santana. She whipped around at the sound of it.

Quinn stood there with her arms crossed and a look on her face Santana knew all too well; it was the look Quinn Fabray got when she was on a mission—usually one that resulted in vengeance and retribution for those involved. Her eyes were dark, cold, and narrowed in suspicion, and a scowl was etched into her features. A wave of nerves shot through Santana's body. _Okay, so maybe not everyone is drooling over my appearance tonight…_

It had been just a little over a month since the night on the roof—the night where Santana and Quinn had made things official between them. The two girls had seen each other as much as possible, going to get coffee or walk through Central Park. And, Santana's favorite part about their relationship, they kissed each other whenever and wherever they wanted. School, work, and Quinn's internship had made their get-togethers fleeting and sparse, but they did the best they could whenever they both had free time. Quinn had never seen Santana at work, though, and the flirtatious people were primarily to thank for that. She didn't want her girlfriend—because yes, that's what Quinn _finally _was—seeing the inebriated, senseless people who hit on her. Santana knew that it more than likely wouldn't end well, and wished to just avoid the whole situation. However, that desire had finally come to an end.

"No," Santana started as she made her way over to Quinn, with only the counter separating the two girls, "I invited you here so you could take me home when I'm done." She smiled her most charming smile and batted her eyelashes. "Home" meant Quinn's apartment; they had yet to really spend time at the loft because Santana was still avoiding a certain conversation with Brittany. The conversation that had the potential to send Santana and Brittany's relationship up in flames, and Santana wasn't ready for that.

But Santana wanted to ease the current tension with Quinn as quickly as she could. "You look nice," she added as her eyes gazed up and down Quinn's body, and she meant it: Quinn was wearing a black pencil skirt, a white blouse, and a long, royal blue sweater. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, showing off her prominent jawline and cheekbones. Santana guessed she had just come from her job with the district attorney.

Quinn ignored the compliment. "It's Friday night. You never come over on Friday nights. You're usually working and then too tired."

"Quinn," Santana sighed, "I haven't seen you in almost 3 whole days." Santana was whining and she knew it was obvious, but she didn't care. "That's totally and completely unfair. Can you blame me for wanting to see my girlfriend? Especially," Santana continued as she leaned her forearms on the counter of the bar looking imploringly at Quinn, "when my girlfriend is as awesome and hot as you are." The corners of Quinn's mouth twitched as she tried to resist the smile and Santana knew the pleading was working. "I am sorry I can't go a couple of days without actually laying my eyes on you. I am sorry that I'm clearly a very needy, very clingy girlfriend who is just looking for your endearment and attention."

"And I'm sorry you're a kiss-ass," Quinn told her, but she was smiling openly now.

"That, too," Santana agreed with a grin and a nod.

Quinn leaned down and rested her own forearms on top of Santana's so their noses grazed each other. She waited a second longer before she lightly pressed her lips against Santana's, conscious of the fact they were still in the middle of a crowded place. Santana felt her mind instantly cloud over with Quinn's scent and she felt as if she had been shocked a hundred times in a row.

That was the thing about kissing Quinn; she had a way of making every single kiss feel like their first one. She made it exhilarating and mind-altering; kissing Quinn had quickly become Santana's favorite thing in the world and she didn't think she would ever tire of the feeling she got when their lips connected.

"Hi," Quinn breathed as she retreated back to look at Santana, who grinned at the simplicity of it all.

"Hi," Santana replied. She stared into Quinn's eyes and was happy to see the darkness and coldness they held a few minutes previously had vanished; they were deep and sparkling and their impossible shade of hazel again. "My shift is over in 20 minutes," she told her.

Quinn nodded and pulled away to sit herself on a bar stool. Santana stood up straight and made her way over to the other side of the counter to grab the towel she had been using earlier and had dropped when she heard Quinn's voice.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Santana asked Quinn over her shoulder. "I make a mean Long Island Iced Tea."

But Quinn shook her head in response. "No, thanks. I don't really drink anymore." She said it in an offhandedly manner and Santana turned to her, eyebrows raised.

"That wasn't really the case 3 years ago at Mr. Schue's wedding."

"Yeah, well-"

"Oh my god, Santana Lopez!" A shrill, excited voice interrupted Quinn's answer and both girls turned to look at the newcomer. A girl with long brown hair and dull gray eyes had made her way over to the bar and Santana's heart sank at the sight of her. _Shit_, she thought to herself. "It has been _so_ long!" the girl said loudly.

_Not really, _Santana corrected the girl mentally. She cleared her throat and swayed back and forth on her feet uncomfortably, well aware of Quinn's sudden fixed gaze on her. "Elaine," Santana murmured weakly.

Elaine, clearly sufficiently beyond tipsy, seemed exceptionally flattered by Santana's short reply. She clasped the one hand that wasn't clutching a beer bottle to her chest. "Wow, I must be better in bed than I thought I was if the one and only, infamous womanizer Santana Lopez remembers me."

If Santana hadn't been so mortified at Elaine's bluntness she probably would have slapped the girl clear across the face as hard as she could. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides and took deep, steadying breaths. As the chagrin began to melt away, her blood boiled and heat flooded her face and Santana looked everywhere but Quinn. She knew what she would see if she looked into her girlfriend's eyes: shock and horror, pain and sadness. _God fucking dammit, we had just gotten past the first chick from earlier._

"You should probably go now," Santana told Elaine in a threatening voice. She had no problem with cutting a bitch in public.

"But I just got here!" In her drunken state of mind Elaine evidently couldn't sense the sudden, resurfaced tension between Santana and Quinn. "And I want to know what happened with us. Why did you suddenly stop calling? I thought we had something special."

"Elaine, seriously just-"

"I loved you, you know that? I mean, I really, really loved you, and then you just stopped calling!" Elaine slurred her words slightly, but they came out articulately enough. Santana's eyes widened in surprise and she glanced over at Quinn. The blonde nodded her head once, as if confirming something that had been going through her mind, got up from the stool and began walking towards the door of the bar without looking at Elaine or Santana once. Santana was on the other side of the counter in a second, not wanting Quinn to get too much of a head start. She figured her coworkers could manage without her until the next person came in for their shift—she was only bailing a couple minutes early, and for good reason. She began pushing through the hordes of people, getting more and more irritated by the second and not caring who she hit or what she stepped on. Santana was only vaguely aware of Elaine shouting her name as loudly as she could as she finally reached the exit and flung the doors open.

"Quinn!" she called, frantically looking every which way. When she looked to her left she caught sight of a blonde ponytail and sprinted after it. "Quinn!" Santana was nearing the girl, but she showed no indication of turning around. "Quinn, just wait! Talk to me. Please." Her hand closed in around Quinn's wrist forcing her to turn around.

"What, Santana?" Quinn's eyes flashed dangerously. "What could you possibly have to say to me?"

"That wasn't what it looked like, Quinn, I swear it wasn't," Santana pleaded. Quinn let out a humorless chuckle.

"Oh, really? Then what was it exactly? Please, enlighten me." Quinn pulled her hand out of Santana's grasp and crossed her arms.

Santana sighed and looked down at her feet. She didn't really know how to explain the situation without setting off Quinn; it all came back to her poor decisions made when she felt heartbroken and damaged.

"You do realize," Quinn began when she saw Santana wasn't going to say anything, "that first girl was practically undressing you with her eyes, right? She would have jumped in between your legs right then and there had you let her." Her voice was hard and flat, so unlike the usual gentleness it held.

"That girl wasn't anything, Quinn, okay? She was nothing. _Nothing_. I didn't even know her," Santana said desperately. She needed Quinn to understand; and more than that, she needed Quinn to be accepting of her past, with its glaring mistakes and all.

"Fine," Quinn stated shortly, "I believe that. I _get_ that. I kind of even expected the whole 'random people flirting with you' thing what with you being a bartender and looking the way you do." If the atmosphere hadn't been so heavy and strained, Santana would have beamed at Quinn's subtle compliment. "But the second one, _Elaine_," Quinn said the name with so much venom Santana's blood chilled considerably, "she said she was in love with you, Santana! In love with you for God's sake."

Santana looked up at Quinn with a distressed expression. "She was drunk. She probably had no idea what she was saying. I'm sure she won't even remember it tomorrow." She had meant the words to sound firm, but her voice shook slightly with uncertainty.

"And you believe that?" Quinn raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Santana hesitated before shaking her head silently. "Why did you stop calling?"

Santana inclined her head to the side, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

"She said you just stopped calling her, seemingly without explanation. Why?" Quinn kept her voice controlled, but curiosity burned in the question.

"I saw you," Santana answered easily, automatically. It was the truth; the last time she had even spoken to Elaine was the day before Santana saw Quinn on the train. Since then, Santana's focuses had been centered on nothing but the blonde. "I mean, uhh…the train happened. I saw you. And then we hung out and everything and…obviously we started dating, so I kind of just forgot about her."

Quinn's features seemed to soften somewhat, but only slightly. "She was that easy to forget about?"

"She wasn't anything compared to you, if that's what you mean," Santana told Quinn honestly.

Quinn nodded in acknowledgement but said nothing. She turned on her heel and started walking briskly away from her girlfriend. Santana felt her heart sink, thinking Quinn was going to leave her there on the side of the road. She saw Quinn get into her car—a sleek, midnight blue BMW—and start the engine. When Quinn didn't put the car in drive and pull away, Santana took it as a sign to get into the passenger seat. Relief washed over her as she walked over and opened the door, sliding in quickly, and Quinn peeled out of the spot as soon as Santana shut it.

The drive to Quinn's apartment was completely silent. Santana didn't know if she was out of the clear just yet and didn't want to chance ruining everything by saying something stupid. So she kept her mouth shut for the entire half hour, staring blankly out the window.

When they finally reached Quinn's apartment she shut off the car, but made no move to get out. Santana sat with her hands in her lap waiting for the blonde to say something, anything.

"How many?" Quinn asked abruptly. She had her hands still on the steering wheel and was staring out the front windshield.

"How many what?" Santana responded quietly.

"Women, Santana," Quinn said with a sigh. "How many women have there been since we hooked up 3 years ago?"

Santana knew meant Quinn was talking about overall women—not just legitimate, committed relationships. It didn't really matter, though, because Santana had had a total of zero of those. Random hookups, one night stands…Santana felt the shame creep through every portion of her body. She had no idea what the exact number was. Hell, she couldn't even ballpark it. _That's_ how many women there had been.

"A lot," she whispered. Quinn nodded, still not looking at Santana.

Quinn suddenly threw the car door open and got out of the vehicle in one hasty motion. Santana barely had time to register what was happening before she exited on the passenger side and trailed Quinn up the stairs to the building. They walked through the lobby, not even greeting Gary the doorman, and straight to the elevators. The ride up to Quinn's floor passed by in deafening quietness, and Santana wasn't sure if she had ever heard silence that loud.

The elevator doors finally opened and Quinn stalked down the hallway, Santana right behind her. She followed Quinn into the girl's apartment, and Quinn tossed her keys in the bowl on the table beside the door. Santana looked around at the place that had become so familiar to her. It was wide and open, the kitchen sitting off to your left when you walked in, with a big island in the middle of it. To the right there was a couch, an oversized chair, and a lounge chair, and a big flat screen television rested on the wall above the fireplace. The walls were a pale blue color and everything about the apartment screamed Quinn's name—from the piano situated against one wall of the living room to the enormous bookshelf just opposite of it. It was classy, it was elegant, it was refined, and it was totally and completely Quinn's style.

Santana shut the door behind her and then Quinn was suddenly there kissing her, anything but gentle. Quinn pinned Santana against the wall as she crashed their lips together with tremendous force. Her tongue immediately entered Santana's mouth, and Santana whimpered in delight. Her hands found Quinn's hips as she pulled her closer. Quinn's fingers pulled at the sleeves of Santana's jacket and she coaxed it off of her shoulders, throwing it to the ground haphazardly. Her lips moved to trace Santana's jawline and then down her neck. Quinn sucked gently on the pulse point, making Santana shiver with pleasure.

"What are you doing?" Santana gasped. Quinn dragged her lips across Santana's skin until she reached the notch at the bottom of her neck.

"Giving you what you want," she murmured huskily.

"Whoa, Quinn, wait, wait, wait," Santana started as the words registered in her mind. "_Quinn_," she said in a firmer voice, and grabbed both of Quinn's wrists, holding them to her sides. Quinn removed her lips from Santana's neck and looked at her; the hazel eyes held an unreadable expression and Santana had no clue what the girl was thinking. "For the past month," Santana told her, "you have wanted to take things slowly when it came to what we do physically. And that's fine, Quinn, okay? I'm fine with that. But it isn't just some coincidence you want to rip my clothes off in the same night you see one girl flirt with me and one girl bring up my relationship with her. So we're not doing anything until you tell me what's going on."

"Sex is clearly one of the only ways to your heart," Quinn answered softly. She turned unexpectedly and stormed off down the hall before Santana could even wrap her mind around her answer. She sighed and ran her hands through her hair before following after Quinn. Santana found her in her bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Do you want to explain what that means?" Santana asked as she leaned against the doorframe staring at her girlfriend.

"I can't do this," Quinn whispered, barely audible. Santana felt her breath catch in her throat, and her heart rate sped up. Quinn turned her head to look at Santana. "Tonight reminded me of your history, and I can't just be another one of Santana Lopez's conquests. I can't just wait around until you get bored with me, or someone better comes along and you walk away without a single glance backwards." She moved her eyes down to her hands in her lap.

The words hit Santana like a ton of bricks, and it pained her to think that's what Quinn thought she was to Santana—just an extensive, elaborate tongue and run.

Santana walked quickly over to the bed and sat down beside Quinn. "Quinn Fabray," she said as she put her finger under Quinn's chin to tilt her head up, forcing her to look Santana in the eyes, "you are the farthest thing from a conquest. You are so much more than that."

"But what about Elaine and all those other girls…Santana, I'm sorry, but I cannot end up being just another person you can check off of your 'People I've Fucked' list."

"You are not Elaine or any of those other girls, Quinn. Don't you get that? I can't stress it enough. Before you came along, every girl I took to bed with me didn't mean a damned thing. I didn't care about them. Any of them. You though? Quinn, I care about you so much. More than you know, probably. I will never get tired of you, and there is most definitely no one in the world better than you. I know I can't change what I've done, but my history with any other girl doesn't matter in the slightest. All I want is my future with you." Santana smiled slightly as she rested her forehead against Quinn's. "I need you to believe me."

"I do believe you," Quinn breathed, and she seemed to release all of her uncertainties and insecurities in a single exhale. She closed her eyes and Santana took the opportunity to place a tender kiss on her lips.

"Thank you."

Quinn slowly opened her eyes and smiled faintly. "I'm sorry I overreacted. I should have trusted you."

"Yes, you should have," Santana agreed. "But at the same time, I can't exactly blame you. I don't have the greatest track record. My history with women speaks for itself, so I do understand where you were coming from. And I'm sorry for not putting your mind at ease earlier."

"You're nicer than I remember you being in high school," Quinn joked, her smile widening.

"You always have to ruin the moment, Fabray, damn," Santana said with a shake of her head.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Quinn replied and her eyes were sparkling brightly. "What I meant to say was, thank you for being so kind and considerate. I appreciate it."

"Much better," Santana answered, grinning broadly.

"Whatever, Lopez."

Quinn shifted on the bed, closer to Santana, and closed the short distance between their lips, her arms encircling Santana's neck and tangling her hands in the raven-colored hair. It started as a small kiss, but it quickly grew bigger. More intense. Santana poked her tongue out and trailed it along Quinn's lip, producing a moan from her. Quinn then moved her lips down Santana's neck, wishing to finish what she started earlier. But this time around, her intentions were pure and genuine. She no longer wanted to sleep with Santana to prove a point; no, it was much more than that. Quinn wanted to show Santana just how much she means to her. She slid Santana's tank top and bra straps to the side, her fingers lingering over Santana's skin, and kissed her tanned shoulder.

"Quinn, we don't have to-"

"Please shut up and remove your clothes." Quinn lifted her head to look at Santana and her eyes were burning with fire and passion; Santana couldn't remember a time when she was more turned on.

Quinn grabbed the hem of Santana's tank top and yanked it over her head, not breaking eye contact with Santana once. As Quinn sought out Santana's lips again, her hands found their way to Santana's bare back. Quinn lightly dragged her fingers softly across the skin, causing goosebumps to arise. She traced Santana's spine upwards until she reached the clip of Santana's bra. In a single swift motion Quinn expertly unclasped the hook, revealing Santana's breasts, her lips still occupied with Santana's. Before Santana knew it, Quinn had slid her bra down and off of her arms and threw it to the floor.

"That was impressive, Q," Santana huffed in between kisses, amazed at how effortlessly her girlfriend had removed the piece of lingerie.

Quinn didn't acknowledge the compliment. "Shoes," she commanded against Santana's lips. Santana obliged by kicking her heels off, and the blonde mimicked the movement.

In the next second Quinn had Santana lying on her back as she hovered over her, straddling the girl's hips. She stripped herself of her sweater and discarded it unceremoniously. Santana reached up to unbutton Quinn's blouse, and Quinn watched Santana's fingers as they moved lithely and nimbly. Within moments Santana had Quinn's shirt off her and on the ground, and Quinn dove down for another kiss. Their bodies were flush against each other now and Santana finally became aware of the unwarranted throbbing between her legs. She had forgotten just how good Quinn's skin felt against hers.

As Quinn attacked Santana's neck with her lips, Santana stretched behind the girl's back to remove her bra. She wasn't as suave as Quinn had been, but she got the job done relatively quickly and threw the article of clothing to the side. Santana's hands roamed all over Quinn's body touching and caressing everywhere they could reach; her skin was pale and smooth, and it looked to be made of porcelain, but it resonated a satisfying heat against Santana's own skin.

Santana moved down to Quinn's skirt and unzipped it. Quinn arched her hips so that Santana could pull it down to her knees, and she hurriedly kicked it off the rest of the way with her feet. Santana hooked a finger around Quinn's lace panties and tugged them down as well, Quinn imitating the same movement as before. Quinn was fully exposed now, and Santana's memory of 3 years ago didn't do the blonde justice. She was breathtakingly beautiful—and Santana doubted if she even knew it.

Quinn didn't stop to let Santana admire her, though. She began to trace her lips down Santana's abdomen; she trailed them through the valley between Santana's breasts, her tongue sticking slightly out to drag along the skin, and past her belly button. The closer Quinn's mouth got to Santana's center, the harder it pulsated and Santana stifled a groan. Her skin simultaneously tingled and burned with desire. Quinn stopped when she got to the top of Santana's jeans. She unfastened the button and shimmied the pants over Santana's hips, partially elevating herself so Santana could fling them off. Quinn started to retrace the path her lips had just traveled, moving them back up Santana's body as she ran her hands up and down Santana's sides.

When Quinn once again reached Santana's neck she nipped softly at the skin with her teeth, and this time Santana couldn't suppress the small whimper that left her lips. One of Quinn's hands made its way to the waistband of Santana's red thong and jerked it down. Santana's hips bucked up at the closeness of Quinn's hand to her core, and she quickly removed the undergarment. As Quinn continued her assault on Santana's neck with lips and teeth, she dipped two fingers into Santana without warning, eliciting a loud gasp from the girl. She began to thrust in and out in a rhythmic, methodical manner; each time she would enter Santana, Quinn would roll her hips into the girl's under her, applying even more pressure.

"Jesus, Quinn," Santana moaned. She pressed her fingers into Quinn's back, yearning for her to be closer, even though it was physically impossible—Quinn was already directly on top of her. Santana could feel Quinn's breasts brush up against hers and groaned again. She was thoroughly in Quinn's control; Quinn was doing whatever she pleased, wherever she pleased, but Santana didn't mind being the one dominated for once. Quinn was making her feel things she didn't even know was possible to feel.

Somehow Quinn was managing to kiss every inch of Santana's chest while maintaining her momentum with the digits inside Santana. Her free hand pursued one of Santana's breasts, cupping and massaging it. She grasped the nipple in between her fingers and tweaked it around, and her lips grazed over the entirety of Santana's neck. Santana had no idea how Quinn was doing it all; it seemed like she was everywhere on Santana's at once, and with every plunge of Quinn's fingers Santana felt herself reaching climax.

"Fuck, okay, fuck," she panted, digging her fingers deeper into Quinn's skin.

With one final, vigorous thrust, Santana exploded with pleasure. Her hips reared up into Quinn's, and the blonde let her ride the high out on her fingers before she removed them. Santana was breathing heavier than she ever had; Quinn kissed her deeply on the lips before rolling over and pulling Santana into her side, wrapping her arms around the girl. Santana snuggled into Quinn, throwing her arms around Quinn's waist and placing her head directly over Quinn's heart listening to the measured sound.

"You okay there, champ?" Quinn asked with a smile. She hadn't spoken since the intimacy started, and her voice was somewhat hoarse and raspy.

"Give me a second," Santana told her, trying to slow her heartrate, and Quinn chuckled.

"Take your time, my lady," Quinn replied as she kissed Santana's hair.

As Santana's breathing began to even out, fatigue began to set in. _Man, having an orgasm really takes a lot out of you…though, I've never had an orgasm like that before…_

"Okay, I'm good," Santana said. "What the hell was that anyway?"

"What was what?" Quinn inquired, and she began to run her fingers through Santana's long hair.

"Whatever you just did! I mean…damn, Quinn."

"Always the element of surprise," Quinn murmured, now stroking Santana's arm with the hand not occupied in the girl's hair.

Santana started to run her fingers lightly over the muscles of Quinn's taut abs, and she felt Quinn shiver at the touch. "Thank you," Santana whispered. She placed a kiss on Quinn's bare chest, just above her left breast.

"My pleasure."

The next few minutes passed in comfortable silence. Santana closed her eyes and listened to Quinn's heart and felt soothed by the sound. Quinn kept moving her fingers through Santana's hair, relaxing her even more.

"Have you told Brittany about us yet?" Quinn questioned suddenly.

Santana's eyes snapped open at the question. "We are lying in your bed, _naked_, after I've just had the most mind-blowing sex ever, and _that's _what you decide to ask?"

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

"I'm sorry, Quinn. I just don't really know what to say to her. I don't know how she'll handle it, and…I don't know…" Santana trailed off.

"You don't want to hurt her," Quinn helped out. Santana nodded into her shoulder.

"Yeah," she responded quietly. She knew the conversation needed to be had, and soon; Brittany would find out eventually, and she would be even more pissed if she found out Santana had kept it from her. "I'll tell her tomorrow."

"Santana, I don't want to force you to tell her. I was just curious." Quinn rested her cheek on top of Santana's head.

But Santana shook her head. "No, I need to tell her. She's my best friend, she needs to know. I'm not keeping you a secret, Quinn, not even from Brittany."

"You are one of the most wonderful people ever," Quinn said. Santana felt her heart soar and her face heat up. "I feel like I don't tell you how wonderful you are as much as I should. But you are. Wonderful." Quinn kissed Santana's hair again.

"You're not so bad yourself," Santana told her, and Quinn giggled her heavenly giggle. Santana paused a second before continuing, "Quinn?"

"Santana?"

"Do you ever wonder how we ever ended up here? I mean, all throughout high school we had the whole competitive thing going on between us. We were both power hungry and didn't care what we did to get to the top. Then we hooked up at some failure of a wedding, and here we are 3 years later. Dating. Do you ever think about how it all happened?"

Quinn was quiet for a minute before answering. "Honestly? No, not really. I just don't think it's all that important. We've clearly come a long way since high school, and it's been for the better. Sure, maybe Mr. Schue's wedding was just some random occurrence that no one saw coming, but it happened. Life never does make sense. Maybe it will one day, but we're 22 years old—it's not going to make any right now. I don't think about how we got to where we are, because I don't care about it. The only thing I care about is that we are here. Right now. You and me. We're here. And we can either make things happen, or we can stand by and wonder what the hell happened." There was a confidence in her words; a confidence that made Santana feel like she and Quinn could face anything and overcome it, as long as they were together.

"I want to make things happen. With us, I mean," Santana said.

"Then that is exactly what we will do," Quinn replied. Both girls fell into silence for a minute, until Quinn spoke up again. "Most mind-blowing sex you've ever had, huh?" And Santana could tell she was grinning broadly.

"Don't get too cocky, Q," Santana warned.

"It was just an innocent question."

"Yeah, well I plan on getting you back for it," Santana muttered. "You're not even going to know what hit you."

Quinn pulled Santana closer to her, tightening her hold on the girl and laughed. "You have no idea how much I am looking forward to that."


	9. Chapter 9

Wow, you guys can be intense. And passionate. Which is why I wanted to get this chapter up as quickly as possible (though it wasn't as fast as I had hoped)-to clear a few things up. I understand how the last chapter could have made some of you question Quinn and what she was doing, and maybe even hate her a little bit; what I'm asking you to remember is that this is _Quinn_ we're talking about here. She's infamous for being incredibly protective and guarded when it comes to thoughts and feelings. She never wants to give anything away, and you never really know where you stand with her (see Finn's exact quote regarding this in season 2, ep. 19 "Rumours" :) ) until she _chooses _to tell you. That being said, I hope this chapter at least begins to put Quinn back in your good graces...

* * *

Santana woke the next morning feeling completely at ease and utterly happy for the first time in years—that was her thought as she opened her eyes. It was a welcomed feeling, waking up without dread holding you down. No matter what the day held, Santana could always think back to that very moment and remember just how content she was lying with Quinn if necessary. She was still burrowed into Quinn's side and didn't think she could be any more comfortable. Quinn's addictive smell filled Santana's senses and she listened to the calming sound of the blonde's heartbeat, wishing to commit the sound to memory. Santana shifted slightly, nuzzling her face into Quinn's neck, and felt long fingers begin to drift through her hair.

"Your nose is cold," Quinn complained softly. Her voice was raspy and still filled with sleep, and Santana grinned at how cute it was. She trailed her nose up Quinn's neck and kissed her jaw.

"I'm sorry," Santana murmured. She brought her head back down to Quinn's shoulder and sighed happily.

"So am I." It came out as a whisper and Santana knew if she hadn't been so close to Quinn the words would have gone unheard.

She knit her eyebrows together in confusion, frowning to herself. "What are you sorry for?"

"Last night," Quinn said and took a deep breath. "Let me explain," she continued quickly when she felt Santana tense up. "I don't regret the sex, if that's what you're thinking. And that's _probably_ what you're thinking, so just stop." It was yet another time Santana wondered if Quinn could legitimately read her mind—that's exactly what had been going through her head. She didn't have time to dwell on the thought, though, because Quinn persisted, "I'm sorry about bringing up your past. I'm sorry for making such a big deal out of it; because, honestly, I have no room to talk."

Santana lifted her chin to rest on Quinn's shoulder so she could look into the hazel eyes. "You've had countless one night stands and drunken hookups with random women?" she asked with a trace of a knowing smile.

"No," Quinn replied, scrunching up her face at Santana's lame attempt at a joke. "But I _have_ let numerous men define my life. And I distinctly remember you calling me out on it a few years ago." She looked down at Santana with twinkling eyes, and Santana grinned. "Anyway, my point is that I know what it's like to be ashamed of your past and to want to forget about it. I was a bitch to hold yours over you, and I am very sorry for that. It won't happen again. I'm also sorry for practically jumping you the moment you closed the door last night. That was not very nice of me. I was using sex as a means to keep you around; I now realize I was so very wrong and that I didn't need to, so hey let's add that to the long list of things I'm apologizing for at nine in the morning."

Santana bit her lip as she thought about what Quinn was saying. "The jumping me thing was kind of hot," she admitted with a guilty smile and Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Not the point, Santana," Quinn told her. "I need you to know that I didn't have sex with you last night because I thought it was the only way to your heart, as I stupidly said. It was so much more than that, and it _meant_ so much more than that. _You_ mean so much more than that, I promise."

"I do know that, Quinn," Santana responded with a nod. "After we talked some things over you didn't have the crazed, frenzied look in your eyes like you did at first. And I was serious, it was sort of sexy, I'd be lying if I said otherwise, but it wasn't the Quinn I was used to. The Quinn I _did_ have sex with was the one I know. The one I care about so much."

"Have I ever told you that you're amazing?" Quinn was looking at her with such an intensity Santana felt her breath catch in her throat; she was looking at Santana like she was the only person in the world, like she was the only person who mattered. Quinn's gaze made Santana's brain fuzzy and her skin tingle. _Those damn eyes._

"I don't think you've ever used that exact word, no," Santana finally managed to get out in a hoarse voice.

"Well then," Quinn said before leaning down to kiss Santana gently, "you are amazing."

Santana felt the familiar fire burn through her entire body when her lips met Quinn's, even though it was a short kiss. "You're too kind."

Quinn chuckled and placed another kiss on the tip of Santana's nose before lying back on the pillows behind her. Santana settled into her side again, resting her head in the crook of Quinn's shoulder. They lied in silence for a few minutes not wanting to disturb the peace and serenity that had descended upon them.

"I want a future, too," Quinn suddenly stated.

Santana, who had been dragging her fingers delicately back and forth across Quinn's stomach, stopped and looked up at her. "I'm sorry, what?"

She took a deep breath before answering. "Last night," she started, "you said all you wanted was a future with me. That's what I want as well. I didn't really get to answer because of how big of an ass I was being. I realize we've only been officially dating for a little over a month, but this is the realest thing I've had with another person since high school. It's different, and it feels good, and…yeah, no, that's all I had to say. I also want a future with you." Quinn stared down at Santana with a guarded, worried expression.

"Why do you look so nervous to admit that?" Santana asked, smiling faintly. She knew Quinn was a professional at keeping emotions locked up and hidden—she was the best of the best; she had mastered the Ice Queen façade by sophomore year in high school, and wouldn't even bat an eye if someone challenged her or threatened her. So to see Quinn anxious—in front of Santana of all people—came as a shock.

"I don't really do well when it comes to vocalizing feelings," Quinn replied. "Not that it should be a surprise to _you_," she added, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, I know very well just how much expressing your thoughts and emotions pains you. I just like hearing you say it out loud. It reminds us all Quinn Fabray isn't perfect," Santana said, an endearing smile in place.

A look of mock outrage crossed Quinn's features. "Whatever, Lopez."

"You say that way too often," Santana told her.

"Well, maybe you should stop doing and saying things that make me say it," Quinn suggested kindly.

Santana moved swiftly and rolled over onto Quinn, straddling the girl's hips. She leaned down, placing her hands on either side of Quinn's head, so their lips were inches apart.

"Maybe I like it," she breathed against Quinn's mouth. "Maybe I _enjoy_ hearing you say it."

Quinn was about to respond but Santana swallowed her words with a deep kiss. The blonde parted her lips slightly, granting Santana's tongue entrance. Santana probed every inch of Quinn's mouth before entwining their tongues with one another. Quinn wound her arms around Santana's back, pulling her down so their naked bodies were pressed against each other.

Breaking away moments later to catch their breath, Santana wasted no time in trailing kisses down Quinn's neck. She felt hands running up and down her back and dragged her lips to Quinn's throat, now kissing her way upwards. She was about to find Quinn's mouth again when she was flipped suddenly and found herself lying on her back, looking up at her grinning girlfriend.

"How did you-" Santana started, dumbfounded by the abrupt change in positions.

"I didn't get to the top of the pyramid in high school with my slow reflexes, Santana," Quinn bragged. She leaned down to kiss Santana once more and then rolled off of her, getting up from the bed and walking towards her closet.

"Where are you going?" Santana asked, moping slightly. Now that Quinn wasn't beside her anymore, the morning air was cold and Santana huddled under the blankets.

"One of the best things about working with a successful, well-known DA," Quinn began with a roll of her eyes as she pulled on underwear and a bra, much to Santana's dismay, "is getting to go in on random Saturday mornings while everyone else is living their lives."

"You mean you have to leave? Right now?" Santana whined.

Quinn nodded. She started to dress herself in black dress pants, a turquoise blouse, and a fitted, black blazer. "Yes, I have to be there by eleven. I'm sorry. I would absolutely love to spend the day in bed with you." She winked at Santana, who smirked in return.

"You bet your sweet little ass you would," Santana confirmed. Quinn walked back towards her, heels in hand, and Santana looked her up and down. She never realized how badly she had needed Quinn in a pantsuit until that very moment.

"Stop staring, it's rude," Quinn scolded her with a smile as she sat on the end of the bed to put her shoes on.

"I can't help it," Santana confessed truthfully. She crawled towards Quinn, wrapping the sheet around herself, to sit next to the blonde.

Quinn redid her wavy ponytail before turning to look at Santana. "Well try," Quinn said with wavering conviction. "And stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Santana inquired innocently.

"You know what! You and your big brown eyes are giving me that puppy dog look right now. It's adorable and damn near irresistible, and if you keep it up there's a very big chance I won't get out of this apartment on time."

"That's kind of the point, Quinn," Santana explained to her. "And you're one to talk when it comes to people's eyes!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Quinn questioned. She fixed her most alluring gaze on the girl in front of her, and Santana could have sworn she was doing it on purpose.

"That!" Santana exclaimed, pointing to her. "That right there! Those stupid hazel eyes! They are simultaneously the most frustrating and most enthralling thing I have ever seen. I don't know how you do it, but I know you're aware of what your eyes do to me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Santana nodded her head vigorously. "Yes, you most definitely do. It's like you can see straight into my mind; like you can see every thought and feeling I have. It's unnerving, but it's also one of the best feelings I've ever experienced."

"I'll keep that in mind," Quinn said with a smile, and leaned forward to kiss Santana softly. "This was our first sleepover," she mused as she sat back.

"I think we can call it a success," Santana answered with a nod. "Maybe we can make it a multiple-time thing?" she proposed, batting her eyelashes charmingly. Quinn giggled and Santana found herself smiling at the sound of it.

"I'd say that's a definite possibility," Quinn agreed. "And I'm sorry again. For last night. Your history is your history for a reason; it has no influence on what we have whatsoever. You and I may be products of our pasts, but that definitely does not mean we have to be prisoners of it."

"You should totally be a motivational speaker," Santana joked, earning her an eye roll from Quinn. "But seriously, it's okay. You are forgiven. Let's just focus on us."

"And again I say, you're pretty amazing," Quinn said.

Santana beamed and pulled the blonde in for another kiss.

"Call me later?" Quinn asked, resting her forehead against Santana's.

"In the very wise words of one Miss Holly Holliday: I thought you'd never ask."

Quinn grinned at her. She stood up and offered a hand to Santana. "Come on, get dressed. We can get coffee on the way to the subway."

* * *

It was only when Santana was pulling the door to the loft open an hour later did she remember saying to Quinn she was going to tell Brittany about their relationship. Knowing it had to be done, Santana took a deep breath, bracing herself, before entering. She looked around and groaned at the sight in the living room.

"Are you kidding me right now?" she huffed. "It is literally eleven o'clock on a Saturday morning, how are you two already here?"

Kurt and Rachel grinned at her from their seats on the couch.

"We're obviously just here because we missed you so much," Rachel said with fake seriousness.

"Whatever. Where's Britt?" Santana asked as she sat down in the chair.

"Breakfast with Sam," Kurt told her, eyeing her curiously. "She should be home soon. Why does it look like you slept in those clothes?"

Santana glanced down at what she was wearing and realized Kurt had a point; her jeans were thoroughly wrinkled, and her tank top looked like it had just been untangled from being a crumpled up ball as a result of lying on the floor all night. Santana struggled to find a legitimate excuse for her appearance, but was saved from the trouble.

"Oh my God!" Kurt exclaimed, apparently realizing something. "Are you just coming home now? Are we observing a walk of shame conducted by the one and only Santana Lopez? You totally got laid last night!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Porcelain. Shut up," Santana responded sharply. She could feel her cheeks flushing with heat.

"You have a hickey on your neck," Rachel stated, biting her lip to stifle a laugh. Santana's eyes widened in surprise and she slapped a hand to her neck.

"Other side," Kurt informed her as he grinned widely. She slid her hand across her neck to hide the blemish.

"Just shut up," Santana practically begged, desperately hoping Kurt and Rachel would drop the subject. _Goddammit, Quinn and her damn addicting mouth_.

"I take it things are going well between you and Quinn?" Rachel prompted. She and Kurt were well aware of Santana and Quinn's relationship—the former apprising every little detail to them upon their consistent interrogation of her. Santana only nodded once in response, and she continued, "So how many times have you stayed over?" She leaned forward in anticipation and Kurt nodded enthusiastically beside her, encouraging Santana to answer.

She cleared her throat, suddenly not wanting to divulge any more information about her relationship with Quinn.

"Come on, Santana," Kurt urged, "it's just us. You need _someone_ to talk to about your love life. It might as well be us. Besides, we pretty much know everything else that's been going on between you two. Now it's time to tell us about the really good stuff."

Santana sighed and knew he was right. Even though the two people sitting in front of her would probably have been two of her last choices to talk about her relationship with, Santana knew Kurt and Rachel could actually be helpful every once in a while. And they did know the long, complicated history between her and Quinn, so Santana didn't have to explain the dynamics of everything.

"Fine, Teletubby twins, if you _must_ know, last night was the first time I stayed over Quinn's," Santana told them slowly. Kurt and Rachel exchanged stunned looks before turning back to the girl.

"Like…the first time this week?" Rachel asked in a confused voice.

"No," Santana said exasperatedly, "the first time since we started dating."

"Wait a minute. You've been dating for over a month, and you _just_ slept together for the first time last night? Santana, you usually charm your way into bed with a woman within the first two weeks." Kurt's tone of disbelief sent a wave of irritation over Santana.

"Quinn wanted to take things slowly," she defended.

"And you were fine with that?" Kurt and Rachel responded simultaneously, staring at Santana like they had never seen her before.

She threw up her hands impatiently. "God, _yes_, I'm okay with that! Why the hell wouldn't I be?"

"Well, it's just, you know, your history…" Kurt started to say, but snapped his mouth shut when he saw Santana's face.

"Okay, you know what? Everyone just needs to keep their big, annoying mouths shut about my history with women. I understand I've made some stupid decisions in my life. I was reminded of them just last night, actually. Can we please just let it go already? What's done is done; I would love to change it, but I can't. So just shut up about it. I don't want to be that person anymore." Santana ran her hands through her hair and sighed heavily.

Kurt and Rachel glanced at each other again, except this time they looked like they had just struck gold.

"Santana," Rachel began as she smoothed out her skirt and crossed her legs, "we have a very important question for you." Her voice was nauseatingly sweet and sympathetic.

"What?" Santana snapped back. Rachel had a tendency to talk down to people whenever she took on that considerate, compassionate tone.

"Are you in love with Quinn?"

The question hung in the air as if it were a tangible object. It weighed down on Santana's chest and made breathing more difficult than it should be.

_Yes._

"No," Santana replied quickly. Too quickly. Kurt and Rachel grinned widely and Santana pushed on, "_No_. I am not in love with Quinn. For God's sake, we've only been dating for a little over a month." She could hear the tentativeness in her own words.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Don't you dare use that as an excuse, Santana. You and Quinn have known each other since you were, what, eight years old?"

"Six," Santana muttered.

"Six years old! That's sixteen years you two have known each other. That isn't nothing, Santana. In fact, that's a whole lot of something! Even on your worst days in high school you two were there for each other. And you can deny that all you want, but everyone knew it was true. I know your relationship with her has never been like it is right now," Rachel said firmly, seeing that Santana was about to interrupt, "but you are not allowed to use 'We've only been dating for a little over a month' as a way to push away your feelings when you and Quinn have known each other practically your entire lives."

Santana opened and closed her mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. She couldn't exactly disagree with Rachel; Quinn had always been a major part of Santana's life. Whether it was as a catalyst to fuel Santana's competitive side, or just as a best friend to suffer through and survive Cheerios and the monster that was Sue Sylvester with, Quinn had always been there. Santana always had more in common with Quinn than anybody she ever met—including Brittany. They both had a hidden agenda for the world and everyone in it, even if it wasn't always fully justified or necessary. Revenge and retaliation were second nature to them, and their plans always worked better when both girls were in it together.

And yet, it went deeper than that. Neither Santana nor Quinn was good at explicitly expressing her feelings. They both thought it was better to live with everything bottled up inside themselves rather than confiding in someone else and giving that person the power to destroy them. Even if that meant they were internally breaking. Quinn understood what it was like to be scared—of everything and everyone around. She knew what it was like to want to be a better person, but not really know how to get there.

"When are you going to let your guard down?" Kurt's voice suddenly yanked Santana from her reflections.

"What do you mean?" she asked uncomprehendingly, and Kurt looked to Rachel for help.

"Ever since you and Brittany broke up years ago," she began in a soft voice that surprisingly held no condescending tone, "you have been going through the motions of life, Santana. You've settled for drunken hookups and one night stands because you have yet to realize how much you're worth and how much you deserve. You've never fully committed to someone because you are terrified it's going to end up the same way as you and Brittany. And I get it, Santana, okay? I completely understand why you've been so hesitant to legitimately date someone and open up to them. But it's been years. You need to move on with your life. You need to realize you are worthy of another person. I'm not saying Quinn is that person, but I do know that out of all of the people I've come in contact with in my life, you two are the most ruthless, competitive, terrifying, and stubborn ever. And I think, because of that, you understand each other. You need each other." Rachel finished her speech with a shrug of her shoulders as she tried to gauge Santana's response.

"I have to say, Berry, I think I've highly underestimated you all this time," Santana said after a moment as she smiled slightly. "That actually meant a lot, thank you."

Rachel seemed to be a taken aback by Santana's nice sentiment, but she returned the smile nonetheless. "You're welcome."

"We also think you should invite Quinn to dinner sometime," Kurt added. "We," he informed Santana, gesturing to himself and Rachel, "would, of course, prepare, cook, and serve the meal."

"Why in the world would I ever do something like that?" Santana inquired, eyebrows raised.

"Because we haven't seen her in years, Santana!" Rachel declared, clearly thinking it was an obvious answer. "Quinn was our friend, too."

"I'm not sure that's such a grand idea."

"Why not?" Kurt scowled. "You're not ashamed of her, are you?"

Santana let out a laugh. "You're seriously asking me that? Okay, _no_, I am most definitely not ashamed of Quinn. But I also am not going to torture her by making her sit through dinner with you two. We all know you'll probably break out into song at some random time and then it will just be uncomfortable for everyone. I refuse to do that to her."

"At least think about it," Rachel insisted.

"Fine, whatever," Santana quickly placated her and Rachel grinned.

"Besides," she told Santana, "it wouldn't just be you two and Kurt and myself. Brittany would probably also be there."

Santana was about to change her mind and put a complete stop to the whole thing when a voice interrupted them from the doorway.

"Where am I going to be?" Brittany asked as she entered the loft, pulling the door shut behind her.

"Oh, umm, a dinner party of sorts," Kurt said hastily.

"We're having a dinner party?" Brittany's voice was laced with confusion.

"Maybe," Rachel murmured.

Brittany nodded as she walked over to sit on the couch next to Kurt. "Who else is going to be there?" Both Kurt and Santana looked at Rachel expectantly.

She cleared her throat before replying. "Well, it would be you, me, Kurt, and Santana, of course. Sam, if he wanted to come, and…Quinn."

"Quinn?" Brittany repeated as if she had heard wrong.

"Britt, I need to talk to you about something," Santana intervened. Before Brittany could answer she glanced at Kurt and Rachel with a meaningful look, and was grateful they seemed to receive the message. Santana had briefed them on her situation with Brittany weeks ago, and they knew she still hadn't told her about Quinn. They swiftly stood up and began to make their way to the door.

"Wow, would you look at the time! We really have to be going," Kurt said in an exaggerated voice.

"Yeah, sorry we can't stay longer. See you later!" Rachel called over her shoulder. Santana rolled her eyes at how obvious they were being, but Brittany seemed oblivious to the reason behind their abrupt exit. She just smiled and waved at them as they left. They were gone in the next second, leaving Santana alone with Brittany.

"What's up, San?" Brittany asked as she turned to her.

Santana took a deep, steadying breath. The situation was kind of sudden, and she didn't really have a plan about what she was going to say, but Santana thought leaving no time for pointless conversation was the easiest option. _Here goes nothing._ "Britt, do you remember last month when I told you I ran into Quinn on the train? And I was going to get coffee with her?" Brittany nodded in acknowledgement and Santana continued, "Okay, well, since then…I've been seeing her a lot."

"You and Quinn have just been getting coffee?" Brittany screwed up her face as she tried to comprehend what Santana was telling her.

"Well, yes, I have been getting coffee with her," Santana said hesitantly, "but that's not all. Brittany, I'm dating Quinn." She figured it was easiest to get it out in the open as quickly as she could—no time to back down, no time to change her mind.

Brittany cocked her head to the side perplexedly. "Like you and me were dating sophomore year in high school? Because I thought we both said sex wasn't dating…"

"No, Britt, not like that," Santana told her. "It's more like how we were senior year. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

"Not really, no," Brittany answered, shaking her head slowly and Santana sighed.

"I like Quinn, Brittany. I mean, I really, really like her. I am dating her. I am dating her like you and I dated back in senior year, and I am dating her like you are currently dating Sam." It was frank, it was direct, and it was borderline harsh to be so straightforward, but Santana knew it was the only way to help Brittany comprehend the situation.

"Oh," Brittany breathed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Santana shrugged. "I guess I just didn't want to hurt you. I didn't know how you would react, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

Brittany nodded again and bit her lip as she thought about something. "And this is like for real? You're actually dating Quinn? Quinn, who once had cotton candy hair and got a tattoo of that guy from Dancing with the Stars on her back?" _American Idol_, Santana corrected her internally. But that was the least of her worries.

"Yep, the one and only," she confirmed.

"This is confusing. Didn't Quinn like guys in high school? Didn't she tell you she was dating some weird, creepy old professor man at wherever she was going to college? And now you're just dating her?"

_And so strikes the intermittent, fleeting concept that is Brittany's tendency to pick up on technicalities._

"Well yeah, Britt, but I think if glee club taught us one thing it's that no one is really ever in a position to judge other people's decisions on who they date…" Santana sounded like she was lecturing the girl.

But Brittany shook her head. "No, I know that. I mean you saw Quinn on the train one day, and then the next you're just dating her? How did it happen so fast?"

_Crap._ Santana realized she was going to have to tell Brittany about her and Quinn's drunken hookup. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, thinking about the best way to respond. "Right," she began, "well, we sort of slept together at Mr. Schue's wedding 3 years ago. We both had a lot to drink, and it kind of just…happened."

"The wedding where Mr. Schue didn't even get married?" Brittany asked and Santana nodded.

"Yeah, that one. And then we didn't see each other until last month since it happened. We both kind of realized maybe there was more between us than we ever thought, so…here we are," Santana finished lamely. It was the best she could do. Brittany leaned against the back of the couch, but made no indication she was going to respond. "Britt?" Santana incited. "Say something please?"

"I don't really know what to say," Brittany told her quietly.

"Say that you're okay with me dating Quinn. Say this doesn't change things between you and I even a little bit," Santana pleaded to her.

A small smile played on Brittany's lips. "Of course it doesn't change things, San. You and me, we're best friends. Always will be. It doesn't matter who you're dating."

Relief flooded through Santana. She had been sure Brittany was going to be at least a little bit angry. "Really?"

"Does she make you happy?" Brittany quipped. Though it was a relatively simple question, Santana could tell Brittany was asking more than that. She wanted to know where Santana's own feelings for Quinn stood—if Santana was in love with her.

"We've only been dating for a month, Britt…" Santana's voice faded off as she hoped Brittany would pick up on her uncertainty of the answer.

"That's not what I asked, is it?" Brittany threw back at her.

Santana shook her head in resignation. "Yes," she answered firmly, "she makes me very happy."

"Okay, then that settles it. You're dating Quinn, I'm dating Sam, everyone's happy," Brittany stated simply and Santana chuckled. "Is she the one who gave you that hickey on your neck then?"

Santana's face heated up again as she tried to hide the bruise for a second time. She avoided eye contact with Brittany and nodded once.

"Nice." Brittany chuckled, not pushing the subject any further, and Santana let out a thankful sigh.

"Thanks for being an awesome best friend, Britt," Santana said to her.

Brittany grinned. "It's what I do best. Wanna watch The Lion King?" she asked, her big blue eyes shining with excitement.

"Absolutely," Santana replied, nodding enthusiastically.

"Oh, by the way," Brittany added as she got up from the couch to put on the move, "we should definitely have that dinner party."

"What? Why?" Santana asked, taken aback.

"Because it'll be so much better making fun of Kurt and Rachel if the Unholy Trinity is back together again."

* * *

Four hours and three Disney movies later, Santana excused herself from Brittany's presence to go sit out on the front stoop of the building. It was nearing dinnertime and the sidewalks were swarming with people going in all directions.

Santana pulled out her phone and dialed quickly. It rang a few times until the familiar beautiful voice picked up.

"Hello?"

"You told me to call you. So here I am, calling you," Santana mimicked Quinn's own words from weeks ago.

"Ah, I'm sorry, who is this?" Quinn teased, and as always, Santana could hear her grinning.

"Good one, Fabray," Santana answered, smiling to herself.

"Whatever, Lopez," Quinn returned her seemingly favorite words to say. "How was your day?"

"I told Brittany about us." The words slipped out of Santana's mouth before she even realized what she was saying. She slapped her forehead, once again resenting her mindlessness.

Quinn was quiet for a moment before answering. "And how did that go?"

"Better than expected actually," Santana told her truthfully. "She was surprisingly okay with it all."

"Good, I'm glad. I would never want to hurt your friendship with her. I know how close you two are." Santana could hear the genuineness and sincerity in Quinn's voice and it made her smile even wider.

"Aren't you just the sweetest?" Santana said jokingly.

"I really am," Quinn responded. Santana was almost positive if she could have seen her, Quinn would be nodding earnestly. "I deserve an award or something for it."

"Oh yeah?" Santana asked. "Well I have something that is going to push your sweetness to its limits."

"And what would that be?"

"Kurt and Rachel want us to have dinner with them sometime. And Brittany and Sam," Santana told her. She heard Quinn giggle on the other end of the line and felt her heart soar like it always did when the sound made an appearance.

"Why do you sound so horrified?" Quinn inquired.

"Umm, hello! Quinn, this is Kurt and Rachel. I guarantee you they'll make up some insane rule about not serving us dinner until we sing with them. And I am _not_ singing with Pancake Face and Man Hands," Santana told her adamantly.

"You know," Quinn started, "you would think that after all these years you would have put to rest calling everybody names."

"Not even in a million years will that happen, my friend. I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"It's okay, I wasn't very hopeful," Quinn answered and Santana laughed.

"You know me too well," she said. "So will you do it?"

Quinn seemed to contemplate the idea before responding. "Of course I will. I haven't seen any of them in years, so it'll be nice to catch up."

Santana sighed in relief. "Oh thank God. I thought I was going to have to suffer through it alone. You're amazing."

"Excuse me," Quinn said crossly, "that is _my _line to say to _you_."

"Oh, that's right. _I_ am the amazing one in this relationship," Santana jested and could practically hear Quinn roll her eyes. "You don't think this dinner will be a form of cruelty?"

"No, no," Quinn disagreed quickly, "there is a very large possibility that this dinner will be a form of cruelty. Which just means, in addition to getting back at me for last night, you will also have to find a way to make it up to me." Quinn's voice was charming and smooth, and Santana would have sold her soul to the devil to be face to face with the blonde to see the inevitable tempting look on her face.

"I think I can think of a few things," Santana murmured.

"I'm sure you can," Quinn agreed.

"You're seriously not going to know what hit you," Santana warned her.

Quinn scoffed. "Whatever you say, my friend."

"And since when am I just a friend?" Santana retorted, raising her eyebrows.

"You called me a friend literally just 3 minutes ago!" Quinn exclaimed.

Santana laughed loudly. "I have no recollection of that ever happening," she said, prompting another giggle from Quinn.

"Of course you don't. Looks like I'm the more responsible one in this relationship then," Quinn told her in a serious voice.

"Obviously," Santana replied sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. "By the way," she continued as she remembered something, "when were you planning on telling me about the hickey on my neck?"

"What hickey?" Quinn asked innocently.

"Don't give me that! You know damn well about the hickey! It was your mouth that did it!" Santana tried to sound angry, but it wasn't convincing in the slightest.

Quinn laughed openly before responding. "Oh, _that_ hickey," she said, feigning realization. "It must have just slipped my mind. I'm sorry."

"A little too late for that now," Santana muttered, causing Quinn to chuckle again.

There was a momentary silence between them before Quinn spoke up.

"Hey," she said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"You are amazing." Her voice was strong and assured, like she was trying to convince Santana of something she was having a hard time believing.

Santana was glad Quinn wasn't there to see how the compliment practically melted her through and through, and mustered up the most confident voice she could manage, all the while smiling like a lovesick fool.

"Tell me something I don't know."


	10. Chapter 10

Everyone always talks about the nice people in life-the people who turn the other cheek and never have a bad thing to say about others. It's always said that they are the ones who have limits, no matter how sweet and nice they are. They are the ones who get pushed too far and eventually break. But what about the other type of people? The ones on the other end of the spectrum? The people who are cold and distant and seemingly angry at the world for no justifiable reason? Do they have their limits? Is it possible for this kind of person to feel so much all at once they finally crack? Because the world doesn't talk about them; they're written off because they're not the nicest or sweetest person to ever exist. And maybe that holds some truth to it. Maybe their limits don't seem to matter because of the type of person they are. But at the end of the day, they _do_ have feelings. They _do_ have limits. And sometimes, not often, but sometimes, these people begin to feel so much, the "I don't give a damn about the world I live in" act comes crumbling down, and they are seemingly left with the same thing we think we're all left with when life gets the better of us: absolutely nothing.

* * *

By the time the group of friends managed to find a date on which everyone could attend dinner it was already nearing Thanksgiving. They all agreed it would be easiest to just combine the holiday and their reunion, so everybody made plans to be at the loft for Thanksgiving dinner. Kurt and Santana were on break from school; Rachel was in between roles on Broadway and had a significant amount of free time; neither Brittany nor Sam had to work on Thanksgiving; and even Quinn had been given time off from working with the DA.

Thanksgiving morning brought in a slight warm front; it broke up the biting, icy days that had surrounded the city, and the mild weather was more than welcomed by the residents.

Kurt and Rachel, true to their promise, arrived at the loft early to start putting together the holiday dinner. They danced around the kitchen—quite literally—as they cooked the turkey, potatoes, stuffing, and various kinds of dessert, all the while singing absurd holiday medleys. Brittany and Sam passed the day away by having a dance party of their own; Sam ridiculously claimed Kurt and Rachel's songs were ideal for showing off his famous body roll, and wasted no time in doing so. Santana spent the day sitting at the kitchen table, tapping her fingers in rhythm with the second hand on the clock and trying to ignore the commotion going on around her.

Finally, around five o'clock, there was a soft knock on the door and Santana stood up so quickly she almost knocked her chair over. She straightened out her skirt and faced the group. The other four stopped what they were doing and looked at her curiously.

"I swear to God," Santana began threateningly, "if any of you do anything to scare Quinn away, I will shove my foot so far up your-"

"Santana, why don't you just answer the door?" Kurt intervened quickly. "I think all of us have waited long enough to be reunited with Quinn."

Santana rolled her eyes and strode to the door. She slid it open and felt an involuntary grin spread across her face when she saw Quinn standing there. The blonde was wearing a short, white dress with a navy button-up sweater over top. Her hair was pulled into a loose side braid, and her hazel eyes seemed even brighter than usual in contrast with her dress.

"Hey," Quinn breathed, and a smile played on her lips.

"Hey, yourself," Santana answered.

"You look very nice," Quinn noted as she looked Santana up and down. "Though, that's not saying much. You always look good."

Santana felt her pulse quicken at the simple compliment. "Stop it, you're much too kind. But thank you. You look very nice, as well."

"Thank you. But I feel like I should have brought something," Quinn told her, waving her hands awkwardly, but Santana shook her head.

"No, seriously, don't worry about it. Lady Hummel and Barbara Jr. are absolutely _loving_ slaving away in the kitchen all day. I have no idea why, but I think it has something to do with their need to be constantly praised for something they did." Santana shrugged her shoulders as Quinn laughed, and then leaned forward to pull Quinn in for a kiss; she ran her hand down Quinn's arm and interlaced their fingers. "Come on, everyone is anxiously awaiting your presence." Santana dragged Quinn into the loft where the others were waiting eagerly.

"Quinn!"

"Quinnie!"

"Oh my God, Quinn!"

Kurt, Rachel, Brittany, and Sam all bombarded Quinn as soon as they saw her, sweeping her from Santana's grasp; they showered her in hugs and squeezes. Quinn returned their actions with a wide smile, hugging each of her former friends one at a time. She had hardly stepped back from their embraces when they began their 3rd degree.

"Wow," Quinn stated, "I never expected such a gracious greeting from you all."

"How are you?" Kurt exclaimed.

"I'm good, thank you," Quinn responded. "How are you all doing?"

"Living the dream," Sam said with a grin. He wrapped an arm around Brittany's waist and pulled her closer.

"Sam's right," Kurt agreed, nodding in affirmation. "New York City was meant for people like us."

"Good," Quinn replied, "you all deserve to be somewhere that's up to your speed."

"Are you a big, bad lawyer now, Quinn?" Brittany asked earnestly, her eyes wide.

Quinn chuckled. "I'm getting there, Britt. I'm getting there."

"Santana tells us you're at Columbia now?" Rachel inquired.

Quinn glanced at Santana with sparkling eyes. "She would be right. I transferred there last year."

"Quinn, that's amazing," Rachel told her in a sincere voice, "Everyone knew Lima was too small for you. How do you like living in the beauty that is New York City?"

"Well, it's definitely bigger than I remember it being when we were here junior year. And it's much faster than anything I'm used to. But it's grown on me," Quinn said with a nod. "Plus," she added, as she took a step towards Santana and intertwined their fingers, "it helps when you find someone who doesn't make it seem so overwhelming and terrifying." Her eyes didn't leave Santana's once as she made the comment, and Santana smiled slightly.

"Very true!" Kurt agreed. "Everything's better with friends."

"Okay, great," Santana interjected impatiently, "if you are all done interrogating Quinn, I think she and I will go over there to avoid you all."

Kurt and Rachel looked shocked, and Brittany just giggled.

"Fine," Rachel said, "you two can go over there, but don't think for a second that means we're done talking to you." She and Kurt turned around and walked back into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.

Santana led Quinn over to the couch; Quinn sat down and opened her arm so Santana could burrow in her side and rest her head in the crook of Quinn's neck. Quinn's fingers began to run through Santana's hair as they always did when the two girls sat close together.

"Want me all to yourself, do you?" Quinn teased quietly.

"Actually," Santana started, "I was just saving you from the torture they were bound to put you through with their one thousand questions. You should be thanking me, really."

"Ah, obviously that's it. In that case, thank you." Quinn placed a kiss on top of Santana's head.

"I told them not to attack you with questions, I swear," Santana said.

"And you really believed Kurt and Rachel would listen to that request?" Quinn asked with a giggle. "Do you not know them at all?"

Santana was about to respond with a sarcastic comment regarding the tap-dancing twins when a voice from the kitchen interrupted them.

"Hey, Quinn?" Rachel called.

Santana felt Quinn heave a heavy sigh and grinned to herself. Apparently, even after years, Quinn's irritation with Rachel Berry had never fully subsided.

"Yes, Rachel?" Quinn answered.

"Do you keep in touch with anyone else from high school?"

"Hmm," Quinn hummed in response; she seemed to be contemplating the best way to answer. "Yeah, actually, umm…I kind of still talk to Finn."

Silence filled the room as everyone processed Quinn's remark. Santana looked up at the blonde with wide eyes, and Brittany and Sam were staring at Rachel as if she was going to faint.

"You…you do?" Kurt asked apprehensively, and it was obvious he was trying to ease the sudden tension, but failing to do so.

Quinn nodded slowly. "Yeah. After both of us accepted we're better off as friends our relationship got a lot better. We try to talk once or twice a week."

"How's he doing?" Rachel tried to keep her voice controlled and offhand, but her desperate curiosity leaked through the words. Word had gotten around and everyone from glee club knew Rachel and Finn hadn't talked since he left New York years ago; their relationship had disappeared slowly and gradually, fading into the darkness. Rachel hardly ever spoke about Finn—she hadn't known where he was, and she pretended not to care, but everyone knew she would jump at the opportunity to speak to him again.

"He's doing well. He's still in Lima," Quinn informed everyone. "He actually went to college and became a teacher. And now he is teaching 11th grade history and helping out with the glee club." A smile formed on Quinn's lips. "It's not surprising at all, though. He's obviously a great teacher and he absolutely adores his job."

Rachel smiled sadly and nodded. "Of course he does. That's great, I'm glad to hear he's doing so well."

"Have you been back to Lima a lot, Quinn?" Kurt inquired in an attempt to change the subject.

Quinn shook her head, and Santana thought she saw a glimpse of sadness cross the girl's features, but it was gone in an instant. "No," Quinn replied. "Not at all, actually. It's just been pretty chaotic for the past…three years I guess." Quinn laughed a humorless laugh. "I haven't really found any time to go back."

"Wait," Santana started as she lifted her head from Quinn's shoulder, "you haven't been back to Lima in three years? Not even to visit your mom or anything?"

There it was again: an expression of pain and sadness drifted across Quinn's face again, and Santana was sure of it this time—even if it had been small and fleeting.

"No," Quinn told Santana. "I mean, in order to graduate early I had to take on a lot of summer classes and internships and things like that. And now that I'm in my last few years of law school it's been even more demanding. I can't exactly afford to take extended vacations back to Lima."

"But what about holidays and stuff?" Sam asked. "You don't even go home for Christmas or anything?"

Quinn once again shook her head, and Santana could tell she was becoming uncomfortable with the topic. It didn't make much sense; after Quinn's mom divorced her dad, her relationship with Quinn improved greatly. They were never as close as they probably could have been, but Santana knew Quinn loved and cared for her mom; so it confused Santana why Quinn would never return to Lima to visit her own mother, and Santana made a mental note to broach the subject with her girlfriend at a later time.

Everyone else seemed to pick up on Quinn's uneasiness, too, because no further questions were asked. The group fell into a comfortable silence until Kurt made an excited announcement a few minutes later.

"Dinner is served!"

Everybody made their way to the table; Santana and Quinn sat beside each other, across from Brittany and Sam, while Kurt and Rachel placed themselves at either end of the table. Rachel began to pass all of the food around, encouraging them all to eat as much as they could.

"Before we begin to eat," Kurt said as he lifted up his glass of wine, "I would just like to say how happy I am all of you could be here this evening. As I said earlier, everything is better with friends, and I'm _so_ glad all of you are mine. And Quinn, we are so glad to have you back in the group. You have been missed."

The others all nodded earnestly in agreement, and Santana nudged Quinn with her elbow, giving her a wide grin. Quinn's face turned slightly red from embarrassment and she murmured a quiet thanks. The rest of the group raised their glasses and clinked them with one another. As they began to eat, conversation became intermittent and easy, and everyone shared stories from the past few years, the talk between them flowing easily and smoothly.

"So, Quinn, when did you realize you liked girls?" Every head snapped towards Brittany as she posed the question abruptly.

Santana's jaw dropped in surprise at how casual it was. "Britt, I don't think that's-" She stopped when she felt Quinn squeeze her thigh gently.

"No, it's okay," Quinn told Santana with a shrug of her shoulders, "it's a valid question." Everyone around the table was looking at Quinn now. "I guess the night with Santana at Mr. Schue's wedding kind of just confirmed what I had suspected for a while. It never really felt 'right' with any of the guys I dated. No offense, Sam," she added with a smile, "but I think it was something I always knew and just never wanted to admit."

Sam grinned his goofy smile and nodded. "Not a problem. It's not like you and I ever went past 2nd base anyway." Kurt and Rachel looked slightly stunned at Sam's carefree confession, but Quinn just laughed loudly.

"Have you dated other girls over the years?" Brittany asked, and again everyone glanced at her.

Quinn tilted her head to the side and nodded. "Uhh…yeah. Yeah I've dated a few." She glimpsed at Santana, who was staring at Brittany with a bewildered expression.

Santana cleared her throat before speaking. "Umm, Britt, why exactly are you inquiring about Quinn's past relationships?"

Brittany shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "No reason in particular. I'm just checking to make sure her intentions with you are good."

"I feel like that's not-" But Santana stopped again as Quinn cut in, seeming to sense Santana's discomfort with Brittany's sudden interrogation.

"Well, Britt, I have clearly forgotten just how good of a friend you are. I totally understand the questions," Quinn said in a sincere voice. "But I can promise you that my intentions are as genuine as they come." She looked at Santana with an intense gaze and smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way, especially with someone like Santana."

"And what exactly does that mean?" Brittany responded sharply as her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Quinn's eyes lingered on Santana's a second longer before she turned her head to answer Brittany. "Santana would be able to see right through me if I had ulterior motives for dating her. I wouldn't stand a chance; she would kick my ass, and I'm not really a big fan of that idea. Besides, she's worth much more than just some fling."

Out of the corner of her eyes, Santana saw both Kurt and Rachel grin at Quinn's response. A smile formed on her own lips, and it took all of Santana's self-control to not lean over and kiss Quinn deeply. She settled for grasping Quinn's hand in her own and holding in her lap.

The answer seemed to satisfy Brittany, who nodded and had a small smile on her face; the conversation returned to trivial subjects, ranging from favorite restaurants in the city to jobs and classes in school. It was comfortable and it was easy, as though the past three years hadn't even happened.

After dinner, Sam and Brittany sat themselves on the couch to watch a movie. Quinn offered to help Rachel clear the table and wash the dishes, leaving Santana alone with Kurt.

"Wow," he muttered as soon as Quinn and Rachel were out of earshot.

"What?" Santana asked, and she raised an eyebrow.

"You and Quinn," he told her plainly.

"What about us?" Something in Kurt's tone made Santana defensive.

Kurt sat back in his chair and clasped his hands together on the table. "I guess I just never realized how intense it was between you two. How _serious_ it was."

"Care to explain what that even means, Porcelain?" Santana retorted, annoyed.

He scoffed before answering. "Are you kidding me? Santana, the way she looks at you? It's like you hold every answer possible in life. It's like you're the only person who really, truly matters in the world. Her world, at least. She looks at you like you're the soul who put the stars in the sky. Don't tell me you haven't noticed it."

Santana opened her mouth to reply but quickly shut it when she realized she didn't have a good response. Of course she had noticed how Quinn looked at her—how could she not? But Santana had never grasped how it seemed from other people's point of view. The way Kurt put it, apparently everyone else could also see the intensity in Quinn's stare.

"It's not a bad thing," Kurt said when he saw Santana lost in thought. "In fact, I would kill to have someone look at me the way she looks at you." Santana nodded in agreement but didn't say anything in return, still contemplating Kurt's original comment. _Is that really how she looks at me?_

While Kurt and Santana held their conversation, Quinn helped Rachel with the dishes and putting everything away.

"So," Rachel began as she handed a plate to Quinn to dry, "it seems like you and Santana are doing well."

Quinn smiled. "Yes, I'd say things are pretty good right now."

"She mentioned something about you bringing up her past a while ago," Rachel said casually.

"Yeah," Quinn answered, nodding in agreement and grimacing, "I was stupid to do that. Like I told her, I have no room to talk. My past is the farthest thing from flawless."

"You know, she talks about you constantly," Rachel told her with a smile. "I don't think you have to worry about her straying. She's yours—proudly so."

But Quinn shook her head. "No, she's not mine." Quinn glanced at her girlfriend before further explaining, "Not really. Santana Lopez doesn't belong to anyone. She can't be owned by another person. But, if you ask me, that just makes her even more attractive."

Rachel stared at Quinn thoughtfully as she processed the words. "I think that's why you two work so well together."

Quinn raised her eyebrows as she took another plate from Rachel. "Why? Because I don't try to trade her around like a piece of property?"

"No," Rachel answered, "because you _recognize_ that Santana doesn't want to be owned by another person. You recognize it, and even more than that, you accept it."

"Yeah, well, I was serious about what I said earlier. She deserves more than just some stupid, little fling. She's worth more than that," Quinn told Rachel.

"You're good for her," Rachel replied simply, causing Quinn to smile.

Once the kitchen was cleaned up, Santana suggested stepping outside for some fresh air to Quinn, who quickly agreed. They excused themselves from the others and headed out the front door, Santana grabbing a coat on their way out. Quinn reached for Santana's hand as soon as they were in the hallway and they walked down the stairs in silence. Once outside, Quinn turned to Santana, who slipped quickly into her jacket.

"Walk with me?" she asked when Santana was done.

"Of course," Santana replied and linked her arm through Quinn's. They wandered down the sidewalk, enjoying the cool autumn breeze that drifted over them. It had cooled down since the sun set, but the air was still pleasantly warm for it being November.

"So that wasn't terrible, was it?" Quinn quipped with a small smile.

"I'll admit it wasn't _completely_ awful," Santana answered grudgingly. "They didn't break out into song during dinner, which was a huge bonus."

Quinn chuckled. "That's true. I'm not sure I could have handled dinner and a show." Santana nodded earnestly, fully agreeing with the statement.

They walked in silence for a bit as they made their way through the streets. They didn't have a destination, and they didn't need one.

For being Thanksgiving night, the city was bustling with people. Though, it shouldn't have been much of a surprise, even if they were only in Bushwick; New York isn't called "The City That Never Sleeps" for no good reason—that remains true even on holidays. No matter what neighborhood you go to around the city, there was always an absurd number of people out and about at all times of the day.

The couple reached the outskirts of a small, secluded park and started to follow the path that weaved through it; the place had distant echoes of Central Park, but it was by no means as big and magnificent. It seemed to be constructed as an attempt to bring a piece of beauty to an area that didn't have much splendor.

Quinn suddenly came to a halt but didn't give Santana any notice; the latter, her arm still linked through Quinn's, was jerked backwards when Quinn didn't take another step forward. With confusion etched into her face, Santana turned to face the blonde, who had an unreadable expression plastered on.

"Quinn?" she prompted. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do this anymore," Quinn responded quietly, and she seemed to say it to herself. Santana instantly flashbacked to the last time she heard those words—when Quinn thought of herself as nothing but a conquest.

Santana's heart pounded in her chest. She was worried about what was going to come when she asked the question, and hoped her voice wouldn't give away her nerves. "What do you mean? What can't you do anymore?"

Quinn took a deep breath before she answered. "For the past two months I have gone through life downplaying my thoughts and emotions. I tried to convince myself that I was insane, and that what I was _feeling_ was insane. Which is why I haven't really said a lot regarding this particular subject matter. You know I'm not good with feelings—mine or anyone else's. Up until a few weeks ago, I thought just _having_ feelings made a person weak and vulnerable. But I can't do it anymore. I cannot keep pretending that everything is fine and great and perfect, when I'm not being completely honest. With you, with myself, and with everyone else in this godforsaken world."

"Quinn, I don't understand what you're-"

"I'm not sure of things," Quinn blurted out.

"What?" Santana asked uncomprehendingly. She genuinely had no idea where Quinn was going with this whole thing. Quinn's face had a shadow cast over it in the evening's darkness, and her features were slightly blurred because of it, but Santana could see the hazel eyes sparkling brightly.

"I'm not sure of things," she repeated. "I mean, it takes me thirty minutes to decide what color to paint my nails. I can stare at my closet for two hours and still not know what to wear. I am not sure of things." Quinn nodded to herself as though she was pleasantly surprised by how well her words came out. She took another deep breath before continuing, "But I was so sure of you, Santana. I _am_ so sure of you."

Santana smiled at the sentiment, but could tell Quinn had more to say. She ran her hand down Quinn's arm and grabbed her wrist, tugging gently. "Okay…" Santana urged.

"Do you know the biggest reason why I haven't said anything about how I've been feeling these past two months?" Quinn asked abruptly. When Santana shook her head no Quinn went on, "Because I am absolutely terrified of what will happen when I do open up. Sure, I'm not good with feelings, but my fear greatly outweighed by lack of skills when it comes to expressing thoughts. I have all of this crap going through my head and I don't know what to do with it. But I can't tell you about it because I don't want to push you away, or scare you to death."

Santana felt a ripple of pain when she heard the dejectedness in Quinn's voice. "Hey," Santana said softly, "you know you can tell me anything."

Quinn—who was usually so calm, cool, and collected—seemed to struggle with her words and sighed heavily. "God, alright, fine…It's you, Santana, okay? Every day. All the time. It's you. It's you at 3 in the morning, it's you at 9 o'clock at night. It's you when I wake up, it's you when I go to school or work, and it's you when I come home each and every single night. I didn't want to say anything before right now because we haven't been dating too long and, as I said, I didn't want to scare you away. But _also_ like I said five minutes ago, I can't do it anymore. It is you today, it will be you tomorrow, and it _has_ been you since junior year of high school." Quinn's hazel stare was so fixed, so intense, Santana felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her.

"Why right now?" she asked in a strangled voice. It was all she could manage to get out.

"Why did I choose to tell you right now?" Quinn replied. Santana nodded once and Quinn bit her lip as she thought about her answer. "You do this thing," she started, "when you smile really big, you put your tongue in between your teeth. And it doesn't do anything except make me want to kiss you, because you make something as simple as that look extremely attractive. When you get really happy about something, you do this incredibly endearing scrunchy face that _also _makes me want to kiss you. When you get excited about something, you start talking at a rapid pace, and you begin to stumble over your words but it doesn't even matter because it's so freaking cute. And if I could only hear one, single sound for the rest of my life I would choose your laugh without competition because there is literally nothing else in the world like it. You try to act all sexy and badass, like you don't have a care in the world—and you achieve it. To some extent, anyway. Because while you are _incredibly_ sexy and everyone knows just how willing you can be to cut a bitch, you somehow still manage to be the single most charming, adorable, lovable person to ever grace the earth."

Santana opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. She shut it quickly and just stared blankly at Quinn, who pushed on.

"I know," she said, nodding, "that didn't answer your question. It was kind of needed as a preface. I am telling you right now _because_ of all those things. I can't sit idly by and watch you be your cute little self without saying anything. Santana, I really don't think you understand what you do to me or how you make me feel, and I've had to be quiet for too long already. Trust me, I know how incredibly lame that sounds, but I need you to hear it. I've been insecure and somewhat reserved these past two months because I knew what would happen if I told you everything that was going through my mind. But I say it yet again, two months isn't that long of a time to drop all of this on you. I didn't want to ruin our relationship before we barely even had one." She stopped to take a breath, seemingly steeling herself, before continuing, "And then I realized I have been keeping all of this inside for 6 years. _6 years_, Santana. I hope you understand, but I just couldn't be near you as often as I am and not tell you. Not this time around. I need you to know."

Santana had never seen Quinn so vulnerable and exposed. The blonde had always refused to keep her feelings and what she was thinking to herself. She never opened up to people about anything or anyone. Not about Finn or Sam, or even about Puck, who almost everyone thought was the only guy Quinn Fabray ever genuinely cared about. And now, here she was, practically laying her soul on the line for Santana's sake.

It was nowhere near what she was expecting, but it was everything Santana needed and wanted to hear. For years she had minimized herself, refusing to acknowledge her own worth. She hid behind one night stands and drunken hookups desperately wanting someone to find her and tell her she's not broken. Someone to tell her they saw the person she was, and recognized the person she could be. Someone who knew her, and accepted her in spite of all her flaws. At the very moment, Quinn stood before Santana essentially offering to be that person, and Santana knew the girl was more than up for the challenge. Quinn, who had just poured half of her heart out to Santana despite every fiber in her body that was probably screaming at her to do otherwise, had walked into Santana's life two months ago and caused a shift in the world. A shift Santana knew she couldn't just ignore and forget about because it felt too damn good.

And yet, even with them being everything Santana needed and wanted, Quinn's words also contained every little thing that Santana was downright terrified of. They contained promises and commitments and time—all of which were breakable and fragile. Quinn's words were weighed down with a certain irony: they gave Santana everything she yearned for in life, while also wracking her with fear.

That's the thing about feelings, isn't it? You can fight them and push them away; you can try to drown them and suffocate them, but they always come back, usually stronger than they were before. And it was that part of Santana—the part that stupefied and petrified her with fear—that took control of her mind and body and made her utter the only words she could think of.

"I-I…have to go."

She released Quinn's wrist and stepped around the blonde, their shoulders brushing slightly. At the touch, Santana almost turned around to look at Quinn to gage her reaction and try to decipher what she was thinking. But the terror that had flooded her body once again had its way, and Santana kept walking without a glance backwards. Walking away from quite possibly the only girl who could give Santana everything the world has to offer.


	11. Chapter 11

I apologize for this chapter being relatively short, but I needed a filler of sorts. I'll post the next one as soon as I can! Thank you for all the follows and reviews, and I hope you enjoy :)

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"I'm sorry, you did _what_?!"

Santana flinched in the chair as Kurt raised his voice in disbelief and horror.

After leaving Quinn, Santana had wandered through the streets aimlessly—for how long she didn't know. It wasn't until she returned to the loft to find Kurt and Rachel seated on the couch watching "The Sound of Music" did she realize it was nearing midnight already. Brittany and Sam were nowhere to be found, and Santana heaved a sigh of relief. Kurt and Rachel took one glance at Santana and could sense something was wrong; they wasted no time in commencing their inquiry, and Santana was soon telling them everything Quinn had said and what she had done afterwards. Kurt's jaw had dropped as he let out an audible gasp when Santana told them she had walked away, and Rachel's eyes widened in surprise.

Santana fiddled with her hands in her lap, refusing to meet Kurt's eyes. "I…left her there. I just walked away," she told him lamely. Now that she had time to think it all through, Santana regretted it with everything she had. She should've at least _said_ something to Quinn. But she wouldn't have known what a good response was anyway.

Kurt started pacing around the room. "Let me get this straight. Quinn pretty much gave you her entire heart, I mean she practically handed it to you on a silver platter; _Quinn_, who almost never expresses her thoughts and emotions, who keeps everything locked up and hidden away so no one can use it against her, was able to stand in front of you and confess her feelings for you. Something that was probably one of the hardest things to do for her. And you walked away?! You _walked away_?" He stopped his walking to glare at Santana, who just nodded once in response. "Are you insane?" Kurt exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Seriously, Santana, have you lost your mind?"

"I just don't know if I'm ready for that. I don't know if I feel the same way…" Santana mumbled.

"What? A stable, committed relationship? You're not ready for that?" Kurt asked harshly.

Santana took a deep breath before responding. "I just…I don't know, okay? I'm not ready for love or whatever. It didn't work out last time I tried that, and I'm not ready to feel broken again."

Kurt closed his eyes and he seemed to be trying to stop himself from physically attacking Santana. "Santana," he said in a forced calm voice, and opened his eyes slowly, "that was years ago. Years! You can't keep using it as an excuse to not _feel_ anything! Get over it!" He spun around and looked pleadingly at Rachel, who was still sitting on the couch and had yet to say a thing on the subject. "Rachel, a little help here?"

She stared at Santana intently for a second before shrugging her shoulders. "Honestly, Santana, I think you can do better than Quinn anyway."

Both Kurt and Santana gaped at her with wide eyes.

"Excuse me?" Santana growled.

"I'm just saying," Rachel answered, raising her hands innocently, "it's Quinn. Everyone knows how she works. She's heartless. She's self-centered. She'll most likely cheat on you, or just randomly leave you hanging one day. It's probably best you walked away tonight. There's someone more suited for you out there somewhere."

Santana felt red hot anger flash through her entire body. "Don't you dare talk about Quinn like that, Berry, or I swear to God I will go _all_ Lima Heights on your ass. She's a hell of a lot more than what you described."

"It's only my opinion, but I do think you can do better," Rachel replied.

"Oh yeah? And what if I don't want to do better?" Santana retorted. "What if I don't give a damn about anyone else? What if she's the only one I want?"

Astoundingly, a wide grin formed on Rachel's lips and Santana almost strode across the room and slapped her. Kurt looked as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"What the hell are you smiling about, Berry?" Santana cried.

The brunette wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. "You're seriously going to sit there and tell us that you don't feel the same way about Quinn?" Rachel challenged. "Because, based on the answer you just gave me, I'm thinking you're not being completely honest here, Santana. _That's _why I'm smiling. I had to play devil's advocate to get you to admit it, but at least we know now where you stand with Quinn."

Santana opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. She snapped it shut and took a moment to compose her thoughts. "You have no clue what you're talking about. These so called 'feelings' for Quinn you're implying don't exist."

"They don't exist because you refuse to acknowledge them!" Rachel yelled fervently, and Santana had no idea why she was so invested in the situation.

"Whatever, Berry," Santana said. "You're still clueless."

"I don't know," Kurt started as he turned back to Santana, "Rachel has a point."

"Do you want to know what I think?" Rachel asked, and she leaned forward in her seat.

"Not really," Santana snarled.

Rachel disregarded her answer and continued. "You once said Quinn has had feelings for you since junior year, right?" When Santana nodded, Rachel went on, "I think, you have been in love with Quinn just as long as she's been in love with you. I think the two of you refused to admit it to yourselves, and to each other, through high school, because God forbid something came up to ruin your precious reputations."

Santana tried to cover up her shock by laughing mirthlessly. "Right, because you know me _so _well."

"I know that you would have done anything for Quinn in high school. I know you almost ripped off my head for hurting Quinn after I told Finn the baby wasn't his. I know you were downright terrified she wasn't going to survive the car crash." Rachel stared at Santana fixedly, as if daring her to deny the statements.

"That means nothing. We were best friends, it's not surprising I _cared_ about her," Santana tried to deadpan.

Rachel nodded her head; she seemed to expect Santana's response. "Okay, then explain why you would sneak glances at her when she wasn't looking. No," Rachel persisted quickly, "actually, explain the way you looked at her at senior prom when you were singing together. Quinn stood up in front of everyone, you wrapped your arm around her, and you looked at her like she was the only person on the face of this earth. Like she was the one holding the universe together."

Santana's breath caught in her throat. _Was it that obvious?_ She tried another approach at the argument. "But Brittany-"

"Was a wonderful part of your life," Rachel interrupted before Santana could even finish. "And everyone knew you were in love with her, that much was obvious. But I think the only reason you ever even turned to Brittany in the first place was because being in love with Quinn Fabray scared you to death. You couldn't admit it to her, you couldn't admit it to yourself, that's for sure, and more than anything, you were worried she didn't feel the same way; so you looked for comfort in Brittany, and found it. But deep down, you knew it wasn't going to last. You knew you were just settling."

"Why would I just settle like that?" Santana sneered, hoping her voice didn't give away how nervous she was getting. She was trying to find a flaw in Rachel's theory, but was coming up short in accomplishing that.

"Because it was better than acknowledging you were in love with Quinn. It was better than not being loved back by her, even though that wasn't even the case. If you didn't admit it, you wouldn't be as scared."

"I'm Santana Lopez," she said in an attempt at confidence, "I don't get scared of things."

"You do if the thing is Quinn," Rachel responded softly. "She was the only person at McKinley who had the power to ruin you. She was the only person above you on the high school food chain, and you figured admitting your feelings to her would just empower her that much more. Quinn was your only true rival at the time, while simultaneously being your best friend. It didn't make much sense, but it's how the two of you worked. Admitting you loved her had the possibility of screwing up the dynamics. And that? That completely petrified you." Rachel kept her tone kind and sympathetic, but not condescending.

"I loved Brittany," Santana whispered desperately. She was losing control of her emotions; Rachel was chipping away at Santana's internal walls and barriers surrounding the buried feelings for Quinn, and they were drawing closer and closer to the surface.

Rachel nodded. "I know. I know you did. She wasn't Quinn, though, was she? And she never would be." It touched the exact nerve it needed to.

"She wasn't Quinn," Santana breathed in confirmation. It was like the floodgates in Santana's body had suddenly been burst open; everything she had pushed away regarding Quinn, everything she had tried to deny, came rushing back after years of attempted concealment. She felt lightheaded as it all started to sink in. _I'm in love with Quinn Fabray_. Santana put her head in her hands as the abrupt admission to herself made breathing difficult.

"When did you know?" Kurt asked quietly. He hadn't spoken in a while, but Santana knew what he meant. It was no use trying to deny anything now; Rachel had reiterated exactly what had happened—Santana just didn't know how she did it.

She lifted her head and sighed before answering. "Sophomore year. That's when I knew for sure I was in love with her. After she got pregnant, of all things. She and Puck were sort of a thing, but not officially. Suddenly I was really protective of her. I didn't want Puck anywhere near her—I knew he would only do more harm than good at the time, even if his intentions were relatively sincere. And I would've been damned before I let anyone hurt her. I became jealous, and I had no idea why. It terrified me, though, just how bad it got. At first I told myself it was normal; Quinn was my best friend, she knew me better than anyone, even better than Brittany. Of course I was going to want to keep her safe. But I knew it was more than that. It was different. I saw how scared she was, and the only thing I wanted to do was take her in my arms and just hold her. Promise her it was all going to be okay."

Santana now understood how Quinn must have been feeling just a few hours earlier; open and vulnerable, at the hands of others where anything could happen. It wasn't the most comfortable feeling, but Santana knew the conversation was for the best.

"Did you love her before she got pregnant?" Kurt questioned.

Santana nodded slowly. "I think so. I hadn't admitted it, of course, but now that I look back at it, I believe I was in love with her long before she got pregnant. And, in retrospect, when I heard about the pregnancy, I'm surprised my heart didn't break. I'm surprised I wasn't devastated, and didn't feel unreasonably betrayed. I think it just intensified my feelings for her, to be honest."

"You didn't say anything?" Rachel inquired in a gentle voice.

Santana shook her head. "Of course I didn't. She was pregnant, for fuck's sake. Even if she had no idea what she wanted back then, there was absolutely no way she would've chosen me. It would have been a hopeless cause. So, I kept my mouth shut."

"But what about after she had Beth?" Rachel asked. "She wasn't dating anyone, you could have told her then."

"I was already with Brittany," Santana told her. "Well, we were already hooking up. She made me feel good, and I forgot about Quinn for a while when I was with her. I didn't see any point in calling it off to confess my feelings to a girl who probably wouldn't have reciprocated them."

"Santana," Kurt said with some force, "you do realize, don't you, that Quinn felt the same way? While you were going through all of this, she was dealing with the same thing. If you would have just _told _her…"

"Kurt, did Quinn give you any indication whatsoever she was into girls in high school?" Santana asked sharply. When he didn't respond, she continued, "I didn't think so. She dated Finn, she fucked Puck and had a baby, she dated Sam…I thought she was straighter than a ruler!"

"Fine, I get it," Rachel agreed swiftly, "but Santana, in case you haven't realized, we're not in high school. And Quinn basically just told you she loves you."

"Without actually saying 'I love you,'" Kurt added and Santana rolled her eyes.

"So, what?" she responded. "I just find her and tell her I love her? Tell her I've _been_ in love with her for years?"

"Exactly," Rachel affirmed with a nod. "That is precisely what you do. That's what she did."

"I don't think it's that simple," Santana murmured, causing Rachel to raise her eyebrows questioningly.

"Isn't this exactly what you have wanted since sophomore year?" Rachel demanded.

"Yes," Santana sighed.

"Then why can't it be that simple, Santana?" Rachel seemed to genuinely want to understand where her friend was coming from, even if it was the land of irrationality.

"Because it is exactly what I have wanted since high school," Santana stated simply. "And now that I might have it, that means it's everything I have to lose."

"You have to stop being scared," Rachel told Santana. "You are never going to the find the love of your life if you're still caught up in the fact your last relationship didn't end well. You knew it wasn't going to end well, Santana. I'm not saying it's your fault; you spent most of your high school life being scared of wanting something you thought you would never get. But guess what? That thing you wanted? You have it. That _person_ you're in love with? She just told you she feels the same way."

"I know," Santana whispered, but she didn't know what else to say.

"I'm done babying you," Rachel said. "I'm done providing you with reasons why you should tell Quinn how you feel. You should be able to do that on your own. Stop being scared, stop running. Stop thinking it's inconvenient for you to feel something. If you don't want to tell Quinn, fine. But I'll leave it at this, Santana: if you let her go, if you lose her, you are going to remember every opportunity you had to speak to her about this. And didn't."

There was a moment of silence before Kurt spoke up again. "So, what the hell are you going to do about it?"

Santana was quiet as she thought about the answer to that question, until Rachel jumped in.

"Do you love her?" she asked, and even though everyone knew the answer, the question seemed to be more for Santana's sake than her own; Rachel appeared to think Santana admitting it out loud, explicitly, would solve things. "I mean, are you in love with Quinn Fabray or not?"

"I don't think that even begins to cover it," Santana responded honestly. Her thoughts were becoming clearer, and she was beginning to wonder why she ever thought it had been a good idea to push away her feelings for Quinn. They were insurmountable. They were real. And she was feeling more and more confident by the minute. "I feel like I'm so in love with her to the point where even I don't understand it completely. I never knew it was possible to feel like this about another person. Quinn…makes sense. She helps _life_ make sense, and I didn't think that was possible. If loving her means attempting to swim across the whole freaking ocean, I'm perfectly content with drowning. She makes me feel like I'm capable of doing anything. She knows all of my flaws and my quirks, and for some reason, has still chosen to be with me." Santana paused before summing up her feelings the best she could, "What I have with Quinn, I don't want with anyone else. So yes, Rachel, I am totally and completely in love with Quinn Fabray."

Kurt and Rachel were grinning by the time Santana was done professing her love.

"There it is!" Rachel cheered.

"God, it's about time you admitted it out loud!" Kurt shouted triumphantly.

Santana grinned at their reactions and waved her hand at them dismissively as she stood up. "Okay, well, as _lovely_ as this conversation has been—seriously," Santana told them with conviction, "thank you for putting up with my nonsense. You guys are hardcore friends. I swear I'll be better from now on."

"It's our pleasure," Rachel replied earnestly while Kurt nodded enthusiastically.

"As I was saying," Santana continued, "though this conversation has been wonderful, you two aren't exactly the ones who need to hear it. So if you will excuse me, I have to go tell someone very special I'm in love with them."


	12. Chapter 12

I meant to post this last night, but I got extremely emotional about Glee ending. I have no idea how I'm going to handle it (by reading 985695689 fanfics, probably). I'm kind of conflicted about how I feel regarding the finale...I think the Unholy Trinity deserved a much better ending and goodbye than they received, but I guess my expectations weren't too high :/ ANYWAY. May Glee forever rest in peace. Thank you for the reviews and follows, as always! And, perhaps most importantly, enjoy :)

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As Santana neared Quinn's apartment building her confidence began to falter. She had no idea how Quinn would respond, or if she would even hear Santana out. She debated turning around and waiting for a later time, but Santana was determined to tell Quinn how she felt—come hell or high water. And Santana knew if she gave herself any more time to think about the situation, she would chicken out, which was not an option. Like Quinn, Santana had kept her feelings a secret for years, and it was time to stop running from them. Even though, technically, Santana had just openly admitted her them to herself less than an hour ago.

Santana stopped in front of the building and took a deep breath. _It's now or never_. She wasn't 100% sure if Quinn was even going to be where she suspected, but Santana had a hunch she knew just where to find her girlfriend. Bracing herself for the unknown, Santana walked quickly up the steps and through the lobby. It was almost one o'clock in the morning and Gary the doorman was nowhere to be found—something Santana was grateful for; she had neither the time nor the patience for small talk. She punched the elevator button repeatedly until the doors opened. As the lift carried her up to the top floor Santana shifted her weight anxiously between her feet.

After what felt like an hour the elevator dinged, letting Santana know she had reached her destination. As soon as the doors opened again Santana flew down the long hallway to the door at the end, flinging it open as she ran up the stairs that laid behind it. She pulled up short when she saw the second door—the one leading to the roof—was already propped open.

The intense relief and happiness that rushed through Santana almost caused her to pass out; Quinn was leaning against the wall of the roof, staring out across the city, and Santana thanked a higher power her hunch had been correct. Quinn wasn't doing anything exceptional, just standing there. But at the sight of the blonde, Santana remembered how Rachel had described the way she looked at Quinn at senior prom and couldn't help admitting that it seemed to be true. _Like she was the one holding the universe together_.

Quinn didn't appear to hear Santana arrive on the roof, and the latter took a moment to pull together her thoughts. Santana didn't exactly have a plan for what she was going to say, so she simply let the words flow out of her mouth, hoping they would somehow get her where she needed to be.

"Since sophomore year in high school," she started in a raspy voice, and Quinn turned around slowly at the sound of it with an unreadable expression on her face, "I have been lying to myself. And everyone else, for that matter. I have told anyone who asked that you and I were best friends, and always have been. That's not the lie, though, because we _were_ best friends. Obviously. But it wasn't the complete truth either." Santana took a small step towards Quinn and looked down at her own feet. "Because if I would have been honest with myself, and with you, I would have realized that what I felt for you…it wasn't just friendship. It was so much more than that." Santana chanced a glance at Quinn, but couldn't tell what she was thinking in the slightest.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Sophomore year, huh? That's a long time to hold something in. I know I wasn't much better, considering I told you my own feelings mere hours ago, but were _you_ ever planning on telling _me_?" Her voice was flat and emotionless.

"Up until tonight? I don't think so," Santana answered honestly. "But only because I've been too scared to admit it. Everything you said to me earlier was exactly what I needed and wanted to hear. It was everything I have ever wished for in my life." She closed the remaining distance between herself and Quinn so they were only a foot apart. "Here's the thing, though. It may be everything I wish for, but you are the only person in this entire world I ever wanted to hear it from. You saying what you did? You have no idea how happy it made me."

"Happy people don't walk away from someone who just gave them their heart," Quinn deadpanned. Her features had softened, though, and Santana thought she was getting somewhere.

Santana nodded in agreement. "I know, I was an idiot for doing that. And I'm sorry, Quinn. I am so sorry."

"I mean, you're essentially telling me right now you have some serious feelings for me, yet just a few short hours ago you walked away when I told you how I felt. You _walked away_," Quinn's voice cracked as she whispered the last two words, and Santana felt her heart break at the pain she heard coming from Quinn. "Do you think that was easy for me?" Quinn persisted. "Do you think that was me having the time of my life or something? Because seriously, Santana, that was the hardest thing I have ever done."

Santana sighed and threaded her hands through her hair. She hadn't expected Quinn to be open and forgiving from the second she started talking, but that didn't make it any easier for Santana to see the girl's pain and anger. "I know. I freaked out, okay? I freaked out and I ran away. But I regretted it instantly. I just didn't know what to say to you. I didn't want to say something that would mess this whole thing up even further. I needed to work through everything that was going on in my head."

"And you did that?" Quinn asked. Her eyes were dark and cloudy and any emotion she was feeling was well-hidden by her cool manner.

"Yes," Santana told her, "I did that. Kurt and Rachel had to give me some assistance, but I got to where I need to be. I admitted the things I have been trying to deny since high school, and I am here to tell you them."

"You don't have to, Santana," Quinn answered dismally and she heaved a sigh. "I know I sprung everything on you earlier. I'm not sure what I was expecting to happen, but I can't blame you for being freaked out."

Santana shook her head quickly. "No, Quinn, I _was_ freaked out. But I'm not anymore. In fact, I don't think I've ever been as excited to tell someone something as I am right now. I want to tell you the things I've been denying. I _need _to tell you them. It's my turn to put it all out there. Turns out, I've been waiting even longer than you to admit my feelings. I was just stupid enough to never even acknowledge them like you did."

"But I didn't even actually acknowledge them until a few hours ago," Quinn stated.

"Right, well then we have both been holding on to certain feelings for way too long. It's time to get them out in the open," Santana responded.

"Okay then, what exactly are you trying to say Santana?" Quinn inquired quietly.

"I was serious about what I said a few minutes ago; what you told me earlier was everything I have wanted to hear in life. After it, though, it kind of just hit me that you're really the only one who matters when it comes to that kind of thing—you're the only one I want to hear say that to me. And it has been that way since sophomore year of high school. You'll have to forgive me, since it took me a while to find the nerve to admit everything." Santana smiled faintly and thought she saw traces of a smile on Quinn's lips, too. "Quinn Fabray," Santana started again with a deep, bracing breath, "you are the only person who I have ever loved with all of my heart. You are the only person I have _ever_ been totally and completely in love with. And, as I stand in front of you laying everything on the line, I am saying I am in love with you. Right here. Right now."

Quinn's mouth opened slightly in shock. Her guard had fallen, and Santana could see the effect the words were having on the blonde. The usual fire burning in the hazel eyes was visible once again, and it gave Santana hope. "But Brittany-"

Santana knew she was going to direct the conversation there and was prepared with an answer. "Never had my heart entirely," she cut Quinn off with a shake of her head. "I loved her, but not like I love you, Quinn. Never like I love you. I wasn't able to give her my whole heart, because no matter what happened, it belonged to you. Always. I've been ignorant, I've been naïve, and I've been flat out stupid for trying to think otherwise. It took me longer than it should have, and again, I'm sorry for that. But I'm here now. And I am yours."

Quinn was about to respond when a thought dawned on Santana.

"If you still want me, that is," she added quickly.

Quinn tilted her head sideways as she stared at Santana intently. "You," she began softly as she smiled, "are the only one I want. You are the only one I have wanted since high school, Santana. And honestly? I don't think I'll ever want anything, or anyone, else. Ever."

"So, you're telling me…" Santana prompted with a grin, hoping Quinn would catch on.

She did. Of course she did.

"I am telling you," Quinn said, and she stepped even closer to Santana, so now they were mere inches from each other, "I am so completely, head-over-heels in love with you, Santana. And I am _also_ sorry it took me such a long time to voice my feelings about you."

Santana wound her arms around Quinn's waist and drew her close. "I can overlook your hesitation if you can overlook mine?"

"Deal," Quinn affirmed. She inclined her head and brushed her lips lightly against Santana's before colliding them together. Quinn's hands moved up to either side of Santana's face, cupping her cheeks. Sparks surged through each girl's entire body as they deepened the kiss. Quinn opened her mouth to allow Santana's tongue access; Santana glided and traced her tongue around every surface of Quinn's mouth before tangling it up in the blonde's own tongue.

In desperate need of oxygen the girls broke apart as they rested their foreheads on each other's.

"I'm a bitch." The words were out of Santana's mouth before she had a chance to think them completely through.

Quinn pulled her head back to stare at Santana. Her hands dropped to rest on Santana's shoulders. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm a bitch," Santana repeated. "I'm stubborn. I go to the yelling place as soon as my temper flares up. I'm extremely grumpy when I wake up in the morning. I don't always think my decisions through so sometimes I end up regretting them. I get really clingy—especially when I'm in a bad mood, which doesn't exactly make sense but it is what it is. And some days I am just a total and complete wreck."

Quinn knit her eyebrows together. "Okay…" she said slowly, still not catching on to Santana's intention.

"Between what you said earlier and what you just told me, you seem determined to love me," Santana answered with a shrug of her shoulders, "and you deserve to know what you're getting yourself into."

"But why are you telling me all of this as though I don't know it already?" Quinn asked in confusion.

"What?" Santana returned, just as confused.

"Santana, I have known you for sixteen years. That's a pretty long time to be friends with a person. I already _know_ those things about you; they aren't a surprise. To be truthful, I don't think there's a lot I don't know about you at this point in our lives," Quinn told her.

"Well, I've even slapped a lot of people in my day," Santana countered, sounding like she had committed a felony and Quinn should be cautious of her.

"Alright, first of all, technically you only slapped Finn once. The rest of your slaps seemed to be reserved especially for me. Two people isn't exactly a lot," Quinn said knowingly. "But it's been years since our last slap-fest anyway, and it doesn't matter. I _also _already knew that about you."

"And you still…"

"Love you?" Quinn helped out with a grin. "Yes, so sue me." She placed her hands back on Santana's face and stared at her intensely. "Santana Lopez," she said in a firm voice, "I want _every _part of you. Every piece of yourself you've tried to drown or ignore or throw away, I want it. The good, the bad, the angry…I want it all."

Santana almost went weak in the knees under Quinn's hazel stare and the confidence in the words. It was everything she wanted and needed to hear—and this time she wasn't running away. She leaned in for another kiss, keeping it short and quick but still passionate.

Santana bumped her nose against Quinn's as she grinned. "When did you become so amazing, Fabray?"

Rolling her eyes, Quinn replied, "Whatever, Lopez." She reached for Santana's lips yet again. They stayed like that for a few moments; their lips molding with each other, moving in unison as if they could predict each and every next move.

Eventually needing air they broke apart again, each girl breathless and lightheaded with satisfaction.

"Is this crazy?" Quinn murmured. "Are _we _crazy?"

"Probably," Santana answered with a nod. "But hey, what's life without a little bit of crazy? It keeps things interesting."

A thoughtful expression floated across Quinn's face. "Most people don't confess their love for each after only two months of dating…"

"True," Santana agreed, "but we're not most people. You said it yourself, Quinn, we've known each other almost our entire lives. We've already seen each other at our worst and at our best. Sure, we've only been _officially_ going out for two months, but I think we already did a decent job at establishing just how long we've actually felt like this about each other. We sort of just skipped a few steps along the dating process."

"Your logic is flawless," Quinn said, smiling. "Okay, let's go inside. It's starting to get cold."

Santana removed her arms from around Quinn's waist and grabbed her hand, leading them into the apartment building. Quinn let the rooftop door swing shut behind her and followed Santana down the steps. When they entered her apartment, Quinn kicked the door closed.

"Are you tired?" Santana asked nonchalantly while she turned to look at her girlfriend.

"After that conversation? Not in the slightest," Quinn answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," Santana said as she sauntered over to Quinn, "if I remember correctly, I once said I was going to make it up to you in the bedroom." She snaked her arms around Quinn to pull her close.

"We've had sex how many times since you said that?" Quinn returned with a smile. "A lot. And you're telling me not one of those times was you making it up to me?"

"This better not be you questioning my skills in bed," Santana warned.

Quinn shook her head and her eyes were sparkling. "Oh, no. _Never_. I would just be very surprised if you could do any better." She shrugged her shoulders as if that settled the matter.

Santana's jaw dropped and she narrowed her eyes. "Challenge accepted."

She crashed her lips into Quinn's without further warning, and it was anything but gentle; but Quinn didn't even flinch. Her hands quickly knotted in Santana's hair as they stumbled their way to Quinn's bedroom, never breaking contact with each other. Quinn stripped herself of her sweater and kicked off her shoes, as Santana did the same with her jacket and heels. Santana reached around Quinn's back to unzip her dress, and Quinn quickly stepped out of it, refusing to let her lips leave Santana's.

They fell onto the bed behind them and Santana swiftly straddled Quinn's hips, breaking the kiss for a moment. Quinn reached up to tug at the hem of Santana's shirt, and the girl indulged her by yanking it over her head and throwing it to the ground. Santana leaned down again, finding Quinn's lips, and slid her hands up and down Quinn's sides. She moved around to the blonde's back, unclasping the bra hastily and tossing it aside. Quinn's hands were wandering all over Santana's entire body, and she dragged her nails across the tanned skin. She traced her fingers down to the top of Santana's skirt to unzip it; Santana allowed her to pull it down over her waist before kicking it off the rest of the way, taking her underwear with it.

As Santana began to make her way down Quinn's neck, she felt cool hands unhooking her bra. Her lips reached Quinn's pulse point and she sucked gently, producing a small moan from the blonde. Santana moved her hands to Quinn's hips and she trailed her lips down Quinn's torso; when she met the waistband of Quinn's underwear Santana hooked a finger around each side and dragged them down and off the long legs, all the while layering Quinn's stomach with kisses. Santana's fingers skimmed along the insides of Quinn's thighs, and Quinn bucked her hips up in anticipation. Santana placed a kiss on each of Quinn's hip bones before slipping two fingers into the girl's center and Quinn let out a gratified whimper.

Santana pumped her hand in and out of Quinn at a steady pace while she found Quinn's right nipple with her lips and teeth. Quinn dug her nails into Santana's shoulder blades and shuddered with pleasure.

"Oh dear God," she moaned, arching her hips into Santana's hand that was working in and out of her.

"Now is not the time for prayer," Santana teased as she moved to the other nipple and used her free hand to squeeze and rub the breast she had just left. She raked her lips across Quinn's collarbone, from one side to the other, and then began kissing and nipping all over Quinn's neck; the hand that wasn't inside of Quinn roamed freely across the blonde's body, touching and feeling every inch of skin possible. Santana could tell Quinn was close to climax and slowed down her thrusts into the girl to prolong the process.

As she finally reached her height of pleasure, Quinn gripped the sheets tightly, bunching them up in her fists. Santana kept her fingers inserted a second longer to ensure the moment was as climactic and thorough as possible before removing them. She rolled off of Quinn and pulled the girl closer so they were lying on their sides, with Quinn's back against Santana's front. Santana wrapped an arm around Quinn's stomach and nuzzled her face into the crook of Quinn's neck.

"Okay, I was wrong," Quinn said as she attempted to control her breathing.

"Wrong about what?" Santana asked, feigning confusion.

"You're going to make me admit it out loud?" Quinn demanded in an affronted voice.

"Oh, absolutely," Santana answered with a grin.

Quinn sighed heavily, pretending it was a big task to accomplish. "Fine," she conceded, "I was wrong about your skills in bed. That was better than any of the times before."

"That's right it was," Santana bragged and she placed a kiss behind Quinn's ear.

"I love you."

Santana felt her heart soar at the words. "You're only saying that because of the great sex I just gave you."

"That's true," Quinn replied, nodding. "I love you for the sex and only the sex. Obviously."

Santana chuckled. "I love you too."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes and Quinn started stroking Santana's forearm that was draped across her abdomen.

"I should've told you when we were here for Nationals junior year," Santana thought aloud.

"Hmm?"

"That I love you," Santana clarified. "I should've told you when we came to New York for Nationals. Remember? We were sitting in the hotel room and you were debating about turning in Rachel and Kurt for sneaking out. Brittany and I were giving you hell for it. You went on to say something about how Rachel and Tina had found love, and then you said all you wanted was for somebody to love you. I should've told you how I felt then. Now I'm pissed at myself for not realizing how I felt when you said it."

"Don't be mad at yourself," Quinn murmured quietly. "Though, that remark _was_ essentially directed at you."

"Was it really?" Santana asked in shock and Quinn nodded.

"Yes. It was a general statement, but by that time I knew my feelings for you weren't just my imagination. When I said 'somebody' I meant you," Quinn said.

"Wow, Quinn, I'm sorry. I really wish I would have been honest with myself when it came to you during high school. Things could have been so different," Santana responded sadly.

"Do not apologize," Quinn told her resolutely. "It's not like I did anything about my feelings either. What's done is done and high school is long over. Besides, I'm pretty happy with where we are right now in our lives."

"So am I," Santana agreed. She tightened her hold on Quinn, pulling her even closer.

After another moment of silence Quinn asked, "But speaking of the past, do you think we fought so much in high school because we were secretly harboring feelings for each other?" Santana could tell she was smiling coyly.

"Definitely," Santana responded, remembering what Rachel had said earlier. "We cared about our reputations more than anything and anyone. And we were the only ones who could actually handle one another—everyone else would just run away or cry when they saw us coming. I still don't think even I fully comprehend how our relationship worked in high school, but I _do _know that we each cared about what other people thought of us; admitting we were in love with each other, at the time, was laughable. Even if deep down we knew it to be true. We were young and we were stupid, and we thought our reputations were more important than acknowledging our feelings. So, we went at each other's throats to hide the fact we were both breaking inside."

"It seems so senseless now. We could've saved ourselves from so much of the trouble if we had just been honest," Quinn mused.

"I don't think that's ever been a strength for either of us," Santana reminded her.

"That's true," Quinn allowed with a sigh. "Up until now I've never been very good at having a relationship that involved any type of honesty."

"Oh yeah? And what changed?" Santana inquired, smiling.

"Hmm," Quinn hummed in thought, "I found somebody who is worth every ounce of honesty in the world."

"Wow, for one person to change something so big about you they must be pretty incredible," Santana replied seriously.

Quinn shrugged her shoulders. "She's alright. Nothing special."

Santana laughed in response. "Watch it now."

"I love you," Quinn said softly.

Santana's stomach fluttered with excitement upon hearing it again. Now that they were out in the open, she didn't think she'd ever get tired of hearing those words coming from Quinn. "Are you going to say that now every opportunity you get?" Santana joked.

"Hell yeah. Every single opportunity," Quinn confirmed. "I've waited way too many years to say it. You deserve to have somebody tell you they love you, Santana, and remind you just how great of a person you are."

"And you're that person?" Santana asked as she buried her face in Quinn's long hair.

"Well, only if you _want _me to be that person…" Quinn answered good-naturedly.

"Nothing in the world would make me happier than you being that person in my life," Santana replied easily.

"Good answer," Quinn said with smile.

"Quinn?"

"Santana?"

"I love you too."


	13. Chapter 13

"_Please._"

"No."

"But I said please!"

"And I said no." Santana crossed her arms and hardened her features as she tried to dismiss the subject. She sat on Quinn's kitchen counter, dressed in nothing but underwear and an oversized navy blue Yale sweatshirt that belonged to her girlfriend.

"Santana," Quinn whined. She was standing in between the girl's legs with her hands resting on either side of Santana's thighs, pouting magnificently. She had on purple plaid pajama pants and a black tank top.

"Quinn, I am not going to some Christmas party where all of your lawyer pals will be dressed up in million dollar suits and dresses, and droning on and on about some big test they took in school the other day or some court case they sat it on. I'm sorry, but that's really not my thing."

"I know it'll probably be boring and everything, that's why I need you there!" Quinn retorted.

"If it's going to be so boring why are you even attending?" Santana asked with narrowed eyes.

Quinn sighed exasperatedly. "You don't just turn down an invitation from one of the most respected district attorneys in the city. Plus, she practically cornered me and coerced me into promising to go. Apparently there are quite a few people who think she's extremely pompous and uptight."

"How does that have _anything_ to do with inviting you to her Christmas party?" Santana responded in confusion.

"She thinks if those people saying that about her see she's involving herself with the 'youth of today' or something they'll see her as more progressive," Quinn explained. When she saw Santana was about to say something she pushed on, "Look, I didn't say it made any sense. The point is, I was invited _personally_ by her and I want you to go with me. Please."

"Okay, but why do you even want me to go in the first place? This is _your _boss; these are _your _school and work chums; this is _your _world. Why do you insist on dragging me into it?" Santana didn't see why Quinn was so adamant about the situation.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Because you're my girlfriend? Because I love you? Because I want to show you off to everyone I go to school and work with?" Quinn suggested. "Do any of those reasons work for you?"

"I guess…" Santana answered begrudgingly.

"You get to wear a nice gown if you go," Quinn coaxed with a smile.

Santana huffed in response. "Fine."

"So you'll go?" Quinn asked excitedly.

"Yes, yes, I'll go," Santana told her. "Like I was ever actually going to get out of it."

Quinn jumped up and down in delight. "I would never have _forced_ you to go…" She was grinning widely, and Santana knew she was lying.

"You most definitely would have, Quinn!" Santana laughed. "But I would've given in anyway at some point or another. You're too cute to disappoint."

"Aww, you're too kind," Quinn returned, batting her eyelashes charmingly. "Was it the opportunity to wear a fancy dress that did you in so soon?"

"No," Santana told her. When Quinn raised a disbelieving eyebrow she continued, "_No_. It wasn't, I swear. Though, it did help quite a bit. Your puppy dog eyes did most of the work."

"Puppy dog eyes?" Quinn inquired as she tilted her head to the side.

"Puppy dog eyes," Santana declared with a nod. "And don't you dare tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. You give me those big, irresistible eyes fifty times a day."

"It's not my fault they seem to work so well," Quinn said, smiling. Santana was about to respond in an outraged manner, but Quinn leaned up and swallowed the words with a kiss. "You are the best."

"Tell me something I don't know," Santana muttered. "But in return, you have to do something for me."

Both of Quinn's eyebrows shot up in question. "And what exactly do I have to do?"

"Come back to Lima with me for Christmas."

Quinn started shaking her head as soon as the words left Santana's mouth. "Huh uh. Nope. No way."

"Quinn, please," Santana pleaded, "This is the first time in years everyone from glee club will be back in Lima at the same time. Kurt, Rachel, Brittany, and Sam are all going. Finn is obviously going to be there. Mike and Tina will be there, as will Mercedes and Puck. Artie is even going to be around, and apparently he's dating Kitty again so she will also be in attendance. It won't be the same without you."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'll pass," Quinn answered.

"You haven't been back there in such a long time, are you really telling me you don't want to go just this once? All of our friends will be there."

"I left for a reason, okay? Going back…all it will do is bring to the surface everything I've worked so hard to forget or move on from. I don't know if I'm ready for that," Quinn said in a quiet voice.

Santana wound her arms around Quinn's neck. "And I totally get that, Quinn. I do. But it's not like we're moving back. We're just going to visit. Except this time, I will be at your side every moment you need or want me."

"I don't know, Santana…" Quinn replied slowly. Santana thought she was getting somewhere and didn't plan on relenting just yet.

"If this is about seeing your mom or something, you don't have to if you don't want to, you know that right? You can stay at my house. My parents are going on a holiday cruise in the Caribbean, so we'll have the whole place to ourselves," Santana told her with a small smile.

A confused look graced Quinn's features as she wondered how Santana had known her hesitancy had somewhat been revolving around her mother.

"I don't want to force you to go, though," Santana quickly added, misreading Quinn's expression as one of anger or hurt, "If you really, truly don't want to, that's fine. I'll completely understand. But I do think it would be good for you to go back. Even if it's just for a little while."

Quinn bit her lip and stared at Santana, lost deep in thought. "You're right," she sighed after a minute. "I do need to go back."

"Seriously, Quinn, I don't want to push you into doing something you don't want to do."

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "Really, you're right. It'll be good for me. Regardless of what's happened, Lima has been a huge part of life. I don't think I could ever escape it completely." Quinn shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows, maybe the place has gotten better since I left."

"So you'll go?" Santana repeated Quinn's earlier words, smiling tentatively.

"Yes, I will go," Quinn answered as she smiled in return. "You're lucky I love you so much."

Santana nodded. "I really, really am." She pulled Quinn in for another kiss, wrapping her legs around the blonde's waist.

"Did you say Artie's dating Kitty again?" Quinn asked against Santana's lips. She seemed to finally be processing what Santana had said.

"Yes," Santana replied with a chuckle.

Quinn lifted Santana from the counter with ease and carried her towards the bedroom. "That's borderline horrifying."

* * *

The night of the Christmas party found Santana in front of the loft's bathroom mirror, examining and re-examining her reflection. She was wearing a long, deep red dress with silver straps, and her hair was pulled into an elegant, wavy side ponytail. She ran her hands over the sleek fabric in an attempt to smooth out any wrinkles.

For some unknown reason, Santana was extremely anxious about going to the party. Maybe it was due to her desire to make Quinn proud of her—to be accepted by all of Quinn's college friends and colleagues. She wanted Quinn to take pride in being her girlfriend and not regret bringing her.

A gentle knock on the door broke Santana out of her reverie. She looked once more at her reflection, making sure every hair was in place, and took a deep breath as she exited the bathroom. As she slid the door open and looked at Quinn, Santana felt her jaw drop at the sight in front of her.

Quinn was clad in a long, strapless sea-foam green gown that made her eyes sparkle twice as brightly as they normally did. It hugged the blonde in all the right places, resulting in her looking extremely sexy while also remarkably graceful. Two braids on either side of her head wound around to the back where they faded into the rest of her hair, which was pinned up in a refined bun. _Holy shit_, Santana thought to herself.

Quinn's own eyes widened in shock as she took in Santana and her dress. She opened her mouth slightly, but no words came out for a solid twenty seconds. "Hey," she eventually said as she cleared her throat, "umm…_wow_, Santana, you look…" She couldn't seem to find the words to express just how good Santana looked.

Santana nodded fervently, thoroughly understanding Quinn's inability to form a coherent statement. "You, too."

Quinn smiled appreciatively. She offered her hand to Santana. "Shall we?"

Santana took Quinn's extended hand, but pulled on it when Quinn turned to start walking. "I didn't get a 'hello' kiss," she said with a small pout. Quinn grinned and leaned in obligingly, pressing her lips to Santana's.

"How could I ever forget such a thing?" Quinn whispered with a breathy chuckle.

"I wouldn't let you forget something like that ever," Santana assured her, grinning widely.

Quinn giggled. "I'll hold you to that. Let's go." She led them down the stairs and out of the building.

"Do all the people at work and school know you're gay?" Santana asked in the car five minutes later.

"Yes," Quinn answered easily. "And I've told mostly everyone about you, so don't be too surprised when they recognize your name."

"You talk to people about me?" Santana inquired, shocked.

"Of course I do. Why, shouldn't I?"

"What do you say?"

"Oh, you know, the usual…" Quinn glanced at Santana with a smile before returning her stare to out the windshield.

"What does that mean?" Santana demanded, and Quinn laughed loudly.

"Calm down, would you? Nothing bad, ever. Just how smart and talented you are. How you're _always _cheerful and _never_ sarcastic." Quinn's smile widened, and she was clearly entertaining herself.

"I'm glad you think you're funny, Quinn," Santana said in a serious voice.

"No, no," she disagreed, shaking her head, "I _know_ I'm funny." She turned her head to wink at Santana.

"Whatever," the brunette grumbled as she slouched in her seat. Quinn chuckled and reached over to hold Santana's hand in her own, falling into a relaxed silence.

Twenty minutes later Quinn turned the car down what Santana assumed was a road; a moment later, though, she realized it was a long, winding driveway that was lined on either side with tall trees. It eventually opened to the biggest house Santana had ever seen. A stone mansion stood in front of them; Santana guessed it had at least thirty rooms inside of it. Ivy climbed the walls, giving the place an ancient, Victorian look.

"People actually _live_ here?" Santana wondered out loud, eyes wide.

"Perks of living on the salary of a successful district attorney," Quinn replied grimly. She stopped the car directly in front of steps that led up to the main entrance of the house. A young boy with curly blonde hair walked over and opened Quinn's door for her. She handed him her keys and took the valet ticket from him before walking over and opening Santana's door.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Santana asked as she took Quinn's outstretched hand and got out of the vehicle.

"It's a little bit late for any regrets, isn't it?" Quinn returned.

"It's never too late for anything," Santana retorted stubbornly, and Quinn giggled before becoming serious.

"Hey," she said. She brought her hands up to cup Santana's face and looked at her intensely. "You have nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried about anything," Santana mumbled, eyes downcast.

"Yes you are," Quinn told her. "I know you. When you're worried or anxious about something you tap your fingers repeatedly. And on the drive over here you would not stop tapping them on the dashboard."

"You should stop knowing so many things about me," Santana said, pouting slightly. She brought her gaze up to meet Quinn's.

"Can't help it," Quinn responded as she smiled. "Seriously, Santana, everyone's going to love you. Just not as much as I do," she added. "Stop worrying, okay? Please?" Santana saw the hazel eyes soften as Quinn turned her infamous puppy dog eyes on high power.

She heaved a relenting sigh. "Okay, okay, let's do this thing."

Quinn grinned before dropping her hands from Santana's face and reached for her hand, leading her up the steps and into the house.

Santana's jaw dropped when they walked in; the ceiling was twenty feet high and a massive crystal chandelier hung down from it. There was a split grand staircase directly in front of them that had a set of steps winding down to either side of the wide room. The white marble floor underfoot stretched in each direction, leading into the rooms around the entrance of the house.

"Holy hell," Santana muttered under her breath as her eyes surveyed the entire place.

Swarms of people swarmed in and out of the entrance, talking with each other and introducing spouses or significant others. Waiters in gold vests weaved in and out of the throngs of people, carrying trays full of champagne and appetizers. Quinn tugged down on Santana's hand and nodded her head towards the room off to the right of the entryway. Santana followed her into what seemed to be a dining room with all of the furniture removed, where even more people congregated. On the far side of the room there was a wide makeshift stage where a band was playing instrumental versions of both holiday and popular songs.

"Jesus Christ. How many people did your DA buddy invite to this party?" Santana asked, taking in all of the beautiful women in gowns and handsome men in suits.

"A lot," Quinn answered. "She invited people from her firm, people from the university-"

"The university?" Santana interjected. "What, like Columbia?"

Quinn nodded. "Yes, she's also my professor, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Santana said as she recollected the information. "I forgot about that part."

"Well, yes, so she works there. And it's also where she went. So other alumni will be here. Some other faculty and staff were invited, too, of course. And friends and family, naturally."

"And the few lucky students she chose to do her work for her, like yourself," Santana supplied helpfully with a grin.

"Of course," Quinn agreed, smiling in response. "Come on, I found a group of people I actually know." She led Santana over to a small collection of people who were elated at the sight of the blonde.

"Quinn!"

"Wow, Quinn, you look great!"

"Damn, Fabray, you clean up nicely!"

Quinn grinned and waved their greetings away. "Yes, yes, thank you very much. You all look wonderful, too. It's nice to see everyone out of school and work."

A guy with slicked back hair laughed openly. "Too true, Quinn. It's a welcomed change."

"Right," Quinn started again, "well, more importantly, there's someone I want you guys to meet. Everyone, this," she pulled Santana forward a step so she was a part of the group, "is Santana." She smiled encouragingly at her girlfriend before continuing, "Santana, this is…Alyssa, David, Ian, Shannon, and Ryan." She gestured to each individual as she said their name. "Alyssa, Ian, and Ryan are all part of the internship with me. And David and Shannon are _actual _interns at the law firm—they have already graduated." Santana nodded in understanding, trying to remember who everyone was.

"Ah, so we finally get to meet the one and only Santana," the girl who Quinn had introduced as Alyssa said. She was smiling softly and had kind brown eyes. Her brunette hair flowed freely down her back. "She talks a lot about you, you know."

Santana glanced at Quinn; the blonde's face began to redden with slight embarrassment and Santana smiled endearingly. "All good things, I hope?" Santana answered as she looked back at Alyssa.

"Nothing but good things, actually," Ian jumped in. He flashed a perfect smile. "She just doesn't shut up about you."

"That's not true," Quinn refuted. "Okay, not _completely _true."

"What everyone is _trying_ to say, Santana," the woman named Shannon interrupted, "is that it's so nice to finally put a face to a name. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's nice to meet all of you, too," Santana returned, nodding. "I've heard countless stories about you all."

"I don't think Quinn's ever mentioned _just_ how attractive you are, though," David said with a good-natured smile. He had a short crew cut, a perfectly tailored suit on, and blue eyes that shone brightly.

"Watch it, David," Quinn warned. She attempted to keep her face stony and hard but a grin broke out across it.

"So, Quinn," the guy with slicked back hair—Ryan—interrupted loudly, "have you read Dr. Gibson's new book about The Separation Thesis?"

"Uhh," Quinn hesitated, taken aback by the sudden change in subject. "No, I haven't yet. But I heard she provides some very convincing points."

Ryan nodded. "Oh, yes, she absolutely does. It's a revolutionary piece of work. I wouldn't be surprised if professors around the world began teaching it."

His voice grated against Santana's nerves: it was weighed down with haughtiness and self-love. He reeked of pompousness and old money—Santana doubted if the guy had ever had to work for anything in his life. She guessed everything was handed to him, including his place in the internship. Santana didn't fail to notice the way Ryan stared at Quinn; his eyes kept raking up and down her body and he had a look of lust and hunger about him—_and desperation, _Santana added mentally—that was directed specifically at Quinn. Santana gripped Quinn's hand tighter and shuffled closer to her, trying to send a signal to Ryan.

"I'll have to pick it up next time I'm out," Quinn replied, smiling politely.

"Definitely. Of course, once you're done with it we'll have to get together and discuss our thoughts on it," Ryan said airily. He grinned a dodgy grin that made Santana's skin crawl.

"Yeah, sure, cool," Quinn answered. She seemed to pick up on Ryan's ulterior motives; she dropped her hold on Santana's hand and wound an arm around her girlfriend's waist to pull her closer. Santana had to stop herself from throwing a victorious smirk in Ryan's direction.

"We could hold a sort of discussion group at my house in the Hamptons after you're done," Ryan continued, apparently oblivious to Quinn's desire to end the exchange between the two. "My family hardly ever uses it anymore, it would be perfect."

"Great, yeah, sure," Quinn responded, still uninterestedly. Santana could tell Quinn was merely placating the man, and it filled her with pride and joy.

The group fell into easy, casual conversation about stories of work and school. Santana was pleasantly surprised with Quinn's friends; she had figured Quinn was a rarity—a smart, successful person who attended an Ivy League school but wasn't stuck up and arrogant about it. But everyone in her circle of friends, with the outstanding exception of Ryan, seemed to fall into the same category. They included Santana in the discussions and genuinely wanted to hear what she had to say.

It wasn't until the lead singer of the band made an unseen announcement that Santana begin to doubt herself.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our special guest: Quinn Fabray!" the man called out suddenly in the microphone. Santana, who had only been listening half-heartedly, whipped her head around to stare at Quinn, who had a sheepish grin playing on her lips.

"Surprise?" Quinn said guiltily. She kissed Santana's temple before leaving and making her way on stage as everyone in the vicinity applauded.

"Hi, everyone," Quinn started once she was handed the microphone, "It's such an honor to be here tonight, and an even bigger one to be performing for you. Jane Welker, your lovely host this evening, asked me to sing and, of course, I couldn't deny her request. I don't want to take too much time from the very talented band, though, so I'm going to keep it short and sweet. So please enjoy." She placed the mic back in its stand and nodded toward the pianist to indicate she was ready. The bars of the song started to drift through the room and Quinn took a deep breath as she started.

_Many times I've tried to tell you_

_Many times I've cried alone_

_Always I'm surprised how well you_

_Cut my feelings to the bone_

Santana had almost forgotten how smooth and beautiful Quinn's voice. It didn't have the ability to shatter a glass or a window, but it had the power to knock the wind out of you with the emotion it held. Santana was transfixed with Quinn as she watched the girl get lost in the song.

_Don't wanna leave you really_

_I've invested too much time_

_To give you up that easy_

_To the doubts that complicate your mind_

_We belong to the light_

_We belong to the thunder_

_We belong to the sound of the words_

_We've both fallen under_

_Whatever we deny or embrace_

_For worse or for better_

_We belong, we belong_

_We belong together_

_Maybe it's a sign of weakness_

_When I don't know what to say_

_Maybe I just wouldn't know_

_What to do with my strength anyway_

_We can't begin to know it_

_How much we really care_

_I hear your voice inside me_

_I see your face everywhere_

_Still you say_

_Whatever we deny or embrace_

_For worse or for better_

_We belong, we belong_

_We belong together_

_We belong to the light_

_We belong to the thunder_

_We belong to the sound of the words_

_We've both fallen under_

As the song came to a close a raucous applause exploded through the room. Quinn was grinning broadly as she stepped down from the stage. Santana saw someone sidetrack the girl, leaving Santana to people watch and listen until Quinn returned. Quinn leaned around the person and held up a single finger at Santana, telling her she'd only be a minute. Santana smiled and nodded in response.

Ryan was staring at the blonde with a lecherous expression again. He kept licking his lips and smoothing out the sleeves of his suit jacket, as if preparing himself to talk to Quinn. Part of Santana wanted to stride over and slap him as hard as she could, but out of respect and love for Quinn, she resisted the temptation. David and Ian were holding an in-depth discussion about the previously mentioned Separation Thesis; their words went in one of Santana's ears and out the other. Alyssa and Shannon seemed to be talking about whether or not it would be acceptable to wear the gowns they were currently wearing to someone's clam bake next month. Two women behind Santana were debating if Cabo or Barbados proved to be the better vacation spot.

The room seemed to collapse on itself. Santana suddenly felt all alone and out of place in the room of crowded people. This wasn't the kind of lifestyle she was made out for. Ball gowns and clam bakes, huge parties and pretentious men. She didn't know how to live like that. It wasn't her, it wasn't her life.

Santana felt her chest constrict at the realization and turned on her heel, needing fresh air. She pushed her way through the crowd trying to make it to the front door. She only vaguely registered Quinn calling out her name behind her. She finally reached the foyer and burst out the oak door and into the cold winter air.

"Santana!" Quinn cried, following Santana down the steps. "Santana! Wait!" She caught up to the girl at the bottom of the staircase, snatching Santana's wrist in her grasp and forcing her to turn around. Santana recollected the last time one of them ran after the other: at the bar when Quinn had walked out. _Oh how the times have changed_.

"What, Quinn?" Santana asked in a defeated voice.

"What do you mean 'what, Quinn'?" Quinn challenged. "Do you want to explain why you were leaving? Did something happen?"

Santana shook her head. "No, nothing happened."

"Then why the hell did you leave? Was it Ryan?" Quinn asked worriedly. She dropped Santana's arm. "Because seriously, Santana, he's such a sleaze and I-"

"It wasn't Ryan either," Santana deadpanned.

"What was it then?"

"I just…I don't know, Quinn," Santana answered. She ran her hands over her ponytail and let out a frustrated sigh. "I can't give you any of that." She jabbed a finger at the house to emphasize her point.

"Give me any of…wait, what? What are you talking about?" Quinn questioned with a furrowed brow.

"Quinn, I'm not a lawyer. I don't earn hundreds of thousands of dollars every year. I can't talk to you about the Separation Thesis. I don't attend clam bakes and charity events or vacation in Central America."

"Okay…" Quinn trailed off uncomprehendingly.

"Quinn, you _are_ some superstar lawyer," Santana explained. She saw Quinn was about to interrupt and hurried on, "Or you're going to be anyway. Some day. It's an inevitability. You go to Columbia, and you've already graduated from Yale. You're on a whole other level. I can't keep up. You deserve someone who can. Someone who comes from the same world as you. Someone like all of those people at the party." She took a deep breath to calm herself, but Quinn held up a hand.

"Stop," Quinn told Santana in a firm voice. "I'm sorry if tonight kind of overwhelmed you. That's my fault, and I apologize. I shouldn't have essentially forced you to come. But, Santana, I don't want to date a lawyer. They're boring and uptight." She smiled slightly before continuing, "The people in that house, they're…nice. They are smart. I'm lucky to know them and I'm lucky to work with them. But that's all. You saw them, they care little about anything other than school and work. It's ridiculous."

"But they're just like you," Santana implored. "They get you and they're smart like you."

"Santana, I don't care about that! I don't want to date someone who's like me. I want someone who will challenge me and call me out on my bullshit. Someone who will make me think about the world in a different way. I want someone who I can talk to about all the stupid little things in my mind. I want _you_. And if I'm a carbon-copy of the people you met tonight, I have seriously lost myself along the way."

"You're not a carbon-copy," Santana murmured quietly. "I just think you deserve someone better than me."

"You're right, self-esteem isn't really you're thing," Quinn joked softly, causing Santana to smile faintly. The blonde took a step forward and grabbed Santana's hand. "But you think wrong. There's no one better than you."

Santana heaved a sigh and leaned down, resting her forehead on Quinn's shoulder. She felt Quinn's arms snake around her waist, pulling her closer. "I'm sorry. I overreacted."

"Yes, you did," Quinn agreed with a nod. "But it's okay. I should apologize for ever putting you in the position where you would feel like that."

Santana brought her head up to look at Quinn. "God, _no._ Please don't apologize. You didn't do single thing wrong. You are perfect. And I love you."

Quinn grinned. "I love you, too."

Santana wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck and leaned in for a long, deep kiss. "And your song was amazing," she said as she pulled back. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to sing?"

Quinn shrugged indifferently. "Thank you, but I didn't think it was that big of a deal. Welker pretty much begged me to sing when she found out I could. I didn't really have a choice but to agree."

"Well, it is a big deal. And seriously, you were incredible. Flawless as always," Santana told her with a smile.

"Always," Quinn confirmed, nodding before she found Santana's lips again. "But, umm," she went on a moment later, "can we go somewhere else now? It's freezing out here."

Santana chuckled. "Of course. Do you want to go back in?" Quinn shook her head quickly.

"Definitely not. I've had enough of my _wonderful_ fellow lawyers for one night. Let's ditch this place."

"You sure? I don't want you leaving just because of me," Santana said.

"I'm completely sure," Quinn answered. "Let's go."

"Okay, one thing first. You may be on your way to becoming a lawyer, but you are neither boring nor uptight. Just so you know." Santana grinned at her girlfriend.

"Is that so?" Quinn returned with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," Santana replied, nodding. "You're quite the opposite of uptight. You're rather…loose, if you know what I mean." She winked at Quinn, causing the blonde's jaw to drop in mock horror.

"Excuse me, no sexual innuendoes where people can overhear you, please."

Santana made a point to look every which way before responding. "There isn't a single soul around," she said innocently.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Lopez. Come on, before I lose one of my toes from this cold."

"After you, my lady."

* * *

Song used was "We Belong" by Pat Benatar (seriously, go listen to it if you've never heard it)

Also! Next chapter - back to Lima we go! :)


	14. Chapter 14

I present to you...TWO new chapters!

* * *

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"Do you want me to turn around?"

"We're five minutes away. You can't turn around."

Santana checked her rearview mirror and pulled the car to the side of the road. She turned as far as her seatbelt would allow her in her seat to look at Quinn. The blonde gazed at Santana with a bewildered expression and an arched eyebrow.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you want me to turn around?" Santana repeated.

"No, of course I don't want you to turn around," Quinn answered with a sigh. "I haven't seen half of the people from glee club in years."

"What's the problem then?" Santana asked as she stared at Quinn intently.

"I didn't anticipate returning to Lima anytime soon," Quinn told her in a quiet voice.

"Do you regret coming back?"

"No," Quinn said, shaking her head slowly. "I'm serious when I say you're right; I did need to come back. It's just very…"

"Weird?" Santana supplied and Quinn nodded.

"Yes. But I am glad I came with you."

"Good. I'm glad you're glad. Because, umm, not to sort of change the subject or anything, but what's your take on telling everyone about us?" Santana asked her hesitantly. "I already warned the other four not to say anything and to leave the final decision up to us."

"I was under the impression we were planning on letting them know," Quinn responded, smiling faintly.

"You're okay with that? I mean, I know not everyone from glee club is aware that you now openly date women."

"Of course I'm okay with it, Santana. You're not my dirty little secret or something. I would gladly profess my love for you at the top of my lungs from rooftops if you let me." Quinn was full-on grinning by the end of her statement, and Santana couldn't help by smile in return.

"You're so lame," Santana said, laughing. "So we'll tell them."

"We'll tell them," Quinn confirmed. "Though, I should probably give you a forewarning: Finn already does know about us."

"Wait, I'm sorry, what? _Frankenteen_ knows about us?" Santana exclaimed.

"Well, I told you he and I are friends still. He's the one I talked to after we ran in to each other on the train a few months ago. And have been talking to ever since," Quinn explained.

"You talk to _Finn Hudson_ about us?" Santana couldn't wrap her mind around it. "You do remember what he did to me, don't you?"

"Yes," Quinn told her firmly. "I know he basically shoved you out of the closet back in high school; I am in no way condoning that. It was a douche move, but you have to admit, he did stand behind you after it all. You being outed may have been his fault, but his support for you never wavered or faltered."

"Maybe, but-"

"I get why you have your reservations about him, I really do, Santana. Like I said, he was a dick to you," Quinn interjected. "But he's not a horrible guy. Honestly, he was the only person I felt like I could talk to about everything. Except for you, obviously. But I couldn't exactly talk _about_ you _with _you. I needed someone to help me sort through all of my thoughts and feelings."

"And you chose Finn to be that someone? You couldn't have picked _anyone _else in this entire universe? He never even apologized for that oh so wonderful premature outing he put me through."

"He and I have history!" Quinn defended. "Sure, maybe we were romantically doomed from the moment we started going out sophomore year, but we did genuinely care about each other, despite what almost everyone said. We still do." Quinn stared at Santana earnestly, begging for her to understand. "I'm sorry he didn't apologize. I kind of assumed he did at some point in time."

"He didn't," Santana muttered.

"Okay, well then he has just lost some credibility in my book. And I am sorry." Quinn adopted her best puppy dog eyes as she gazed at Santana.

Santana sighed in surrender. "Alright, alright. I don't necessarily agree with your choice of confidant, but I do understand what it's like to need someone to talk to. And if he helped you figure things out, I guess I owe him somewhat." She smiled at Quinn, who breathed a sigh of relief.

"So you're done being pissed about it?" Quinn asked with a grin.

Santana shoved her shoulder playfully. "I wasn't pissed! Just…surprised. That's all."

Quinn nodded. "Mhmm, sure. Whatever you say, dear."

"Alright, fine. I was pissed."

"That's what I thought," Quinn answered knowingly.

"Okay, let's get to Breadstix. It's my favorite part of coming back to Lima," Santana said as she faced forward again and pulled back onto the road.

Five minutes later Santana parked the car and walked around to open Quinn's door, reaching for the girl's hand as soon as she got out of the vehicle. They walked into the restaurant and were instantly greeted by shouts and cries from their high school friends. Santana begrudgingly dropped Quinn's hand, not wanting to draw attention to their relationship just yet.

"There they are!"

"Damn, it's about time y'all showed up!"

Santana and Quinn both grinned and waved as they made their way over to everyone, seemingly the last ones to arrive. They were all there: Rachel, Kurt, Brittany, and Sam were there, of course; but Finn, Puck, Mercedes, Tina, Mike, Artie, and Kitty sat around the three pushed-together tables, as well. Finn jumped up and pulled the two girls into a tight, bone-crushing hug, grinning his dorky grin at them. Mike followed suit, but wasn't as excitable as Finn. Tina finally got up from her seat and flung herself into Santana and Quinn's arms, and Santana wouldn't have been surprised if the girl had started crying. Once the greetings were done, Santana and Quinn sat down next to each other at the middle of the group, in between Finn and Rachel.

"Finally!" Finn announced loudly. "Everyone is back together! It's been such a long time, guys."

"Yeah, yeah," Puck interrupted, waving away Finn's sentiments. "It's been a long ass time since we've all been together. Don't start crying on us, Finn. That's just embarrassing."

"Whatever, dude," Finn returned affably.

"Okay, that's enough between you two bros," Mercedes jumped in quickly. "Santana, Quinn," she continued, looking at the two girls, "we took the time waiting for you to show up to catch up with each other, but we've been informed you both are currently living in New York?" They nodded in response. "How's that life treating you?"

Santana and Quinn glanced at each other, and the latter nodded, telling Santana to go first.

"It's good," Santana answered. "Really, really good. I'm enrolled at NYU now, working towards a degree in Advertising. I work as a bartender a few nights a week. Nothing too special." She threw a knowing smirk in Quinn's direction and received a kick under the table in return.

"But you're enjoying yourself?" Tina asked. "I can't really picture you anywhere other than New York."

Santana grinned and nodded. "So people say. And yes, I am enjoying myself. I'm very happy with life at the moment."

"Good for you, girl," Mercedes praised. "How about you, Quinn? What happened to Yale?"

"Oh, umm, I graduated early," Quinn said casually, eliciting jaw drops and widening eyes from half of the people around the table.

"Wait, really?" Tina inquired looking awestruck.

"Damn, girl!" Artie hollered as he fist pumped, and Kitty smiled admiringly at Quinn. Santana recalled Kitty's strange fascination with Quinn upon their first meeting and wondered if it had worn out yet, after all these years. _Apparently not_.

Quinn nodded sheepishly. "Yep. Now I'm at Columbia for the next three years."

"Quinn, that's amazing!" Mike told her, while Finn reached behind Santana to pat the blonde on the back proudly.

A small blush started to creep into Quinn's cheeks from the compliments and impressed nods directed at her. "Thanks guys," she murmured quietly. Smiling to herself, Santana made a mental reminder to give the girl hell later for being so humble and shy.

"And do you also enjoy New York?" Mercedes asked.

"Definitely," Quinn replied with another nod. "I think it's a relatively good fit for me."

"New York is just the place to be in general," Rachel chipped in, grinning broadly.

Mercedes shook her head. "No way. LA's where it's at. Sunshine almost on a daily basis, movie stars, you can't get much better than that."

"Well, Chicago's pretty cool…" Artie added in an attempt to defend the city where he lived.

"Yeah," Mike helped out, "It's not LA or New York, but Chicago's pretty cool as far as cities go." Tina nodded earnestly at his side.

"Finn," Kitty drawled suddenly, "how's life in Lima?" If she was trying to get a rise out of Finn, she failed miserably; he lit up at the question and didn't hesitate in his response.

"Honestly, it's great. I think I would feel lost in the city. It'd make me feel small and insignificant. Lima's more my speed. And I love my job, so almost everything's fallen into place."

"'Almost' everything?" Kitty asked scathingly.

Everyone around the table didn't fail to notice how Finn's eyes flicked to Rachel quickly, before returning downcast. "Yeah," he answered. "Almost everything."

"You people are boring me with your stories about nothing. Let's talk about who's getting some action around here," Puck said as he clapped his hands together. "Finn? Take any nice ladies out recently?" Finn shook his head and said nothing, so Puck moved on. "How about you, Berry? What's life like on the love home front?"

Rachel cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I've been very busy with making a name for myself on Broadway. I haven't really had time to date."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Lame. Mercedes, please redeem this conversation."

Mercedes grinned and nodded. "I've actually been playing the field recently. California boys really know how to show you a good time." Puck looked impressed with her, but she turned the attention elsewhere. "So, Tina and Mike, are you two _officially_ back together?"

"Yeah, seriously," Sam added, "your relationship kind of confuses me. It's like every time we see you guys it's different."

Tina and Mike exchanged a glance before replying. "Yes," Tina said, "we are officially dating. Again. Being in Chicago together has definitely done good things for us."

"Aww, yay!" Kurt cheered with a clap of his hands. "You two are so good together."

"Thanks, Kurt," Mike said appreciatively. "We're in a good place. We've had our ups and downs, but you know what they say. Hard with Tina is better than easy with anyone else." He grinned at Tina and intertwined their hands.

"Wanky," Santana chimed in, earning herself another kick from Quinn.

"What about you, Quinn?" Tina wondered suddenly, leaning forward in her seat. "Anyone special?"

Santana noticed Quinn's eyes widen in shock and grinned. She clasped her hands on the table and turned to Quinn with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Yes, Quinn, _is _there someone special in your life at the moment?" Santana saw Brittany fail to stifle a snigger at the end of the table. Quinn glared at her and opened her mouth to respond, but was spared the agony by the arrival of the waiter who had come to take their orders.

An hour later, after everyone had cleaned their plates, the group fell into casual, easygoing conversation. Santana was listening to Puck describe to Finn his adventures in California—all of which seemed either made up or exaggerated—when she felt Quinn's foot lightly running up and down her calf, sending a stroke of lightning through her body. She jumped slightly in her seat, not expecting it, and snapped her head around to stare at the girl. Quinn didn't break her conversation with Rachel, Tina, and Mercedes, but Santana saw a coy smile playing on the blonde's lips.

_Two can play this game_, Santana thought. She turned back to Puck and Finn, and slowly and discreetly placed her hand on Quinn's thigh. They were sitting close enough that it wasn't obvious where Santana's hand and arm were. Santana felt Quinn squirm slightly at the touch and grinned to herself. She began to inch her way up Quinn's leg and underneath the bottom hem of her dress, tracing circles on the skin. Santana glanced at Quinn and was pleased to see the girl was biting her lip and doing her best to keep her attention on whatever Tina was saying.

"Okay, everybody!" Puck's voice cut through Santana's concentration on what she was doing; she swiftly removed her hand from Quinn's thigh and looked at him. Puck stood up to address the group. "As fun as this has been, what do you say we move this party to Chez Puckerman?" He looked around at everyone and grinned when he saw smiles and nods of agreement.

Santana glimpsed at Quinn again, knowing now was the time to make their announcement. Quinn nodded and smiled in encouragement and Santana cleared her throat.

"Hold on," she said loudly, and everyone turned their attention to her. "As per usual, I am hijacking the direction in which the conversation goes, so Puck, sit down." She waited until he obliged before continuing. "Right, well, there's also one more thing you should all be aware of." They all looked at her expectantly, and Santana took a deep breath. "Quinn and I are…well, we're…we are…" The words fell short of her mouth. _Smooth, Lopez_.

"We're dating," Quinn helped out. "Articulate as always," she added in a whisper, covertly to Santana, smiling. The people who were already informed of the fact grinned and nodded happily; there was a moment of silence as the rest of the people processed the words before they all erupted with questions.

"I'm sorry, what?" Tina asked with her mouth hanging open.

"We—that is, Quinn and I—are dating," Santana reiterated, her brain finally connecting with her mouth.

"What do you mean 'dating'?" Mercedes inquired slowly and Santana rolled her eyes.

"It means exactly what you think it means."

"Is this, like, a joke?" Kitty said as she narrowed her eyes. "Because this isn't even believable. There's no way in hell you two are dating _each other_." Her voice was tinged with heavy skepticism and she was looking at Quinn like the girl was some sort of mutant.

Santana clenched her hands into fists in her lap under the table and was fully prepared to go Lima Heights Adjacent on the girl when Quinn placed her own hand over Santana's. Santana looked up and saw Quinn had on a small smile.

"Kitty," she said sweetly, turning her head to look at the other blonde, "I'm trying to imagine you as something other than a bitch, but I think it's a pointless task, because apparently that's all you are. No offense, Artie," Quinn added as she glanced at the boy. He didn't appear to have heard a word either Quinn or his girlfriend had said; he was still staring open-mouthed between Quinn and Santana.

Kitty was about to give a snarky response but Puck cut her off.

"Wait," he said, gesturing between Santana and Quinn, "you're dating? Are you serious?"

Santana rolled her eyes again. "Will you all stop being so dim? _Yes_, we are serious. Jesus Christ. This isn't a joke, this isn't some sort of prank or whatever the hell you may think it is. Quinn and I are seriously, openly, genuinely dating. Anyone who has a problem with it can keep their mouth shut or risk getting their ass kicked by yours truly." She glared around the table, causing Tina to recoil in her seat.

"But…you guys are both so hot," Puck said disappointedly, and Santana grinned at him.

"Yep. Which makes us the best looking couple around," she responded as Quinn chortled beside her.

"Didn't you two hate each other in high school?" Kitty asked, shutting Quinn up and wiping the grin off Santana's face.

"We didn't hate each other," Quinn retorted. "We were just…very competitive with one another."

"That's an understatement," Mercedes muttered.

"If you would have told me back in high school that Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray would eventually date one another, I think I would have laughed until I cried," Tina admitted with an embarrassed smile. "I know the glee club dated pretty incestuously, but I'm fairly certain the thought of you two together never even crossed anyone's mind."

"Well, someone had to be the tone of surprise in this group, might as well have been Santana and myself," Quinn said lightly, stealing a look at Santana, who nodded in agreement.

"How long has this been going on?" Mike asked.

"Officially?" Quinn answered. "Only three months."

"What exactly does 'officially' mean?" Artie spoke up.

Santana glanced at Quinn, who ducked her head in shyness. Unsure of what to say, Santana opened her mouth but no words came out, so Rachel jumped in.

"Oh, they've been in love with each other for quite some time now. But neither of them was brave enough to admit it or say something about it until a few months ago," she announced to the whole group.

"Rachel!" Santana and Quinn hissed at her simultaneously, agitated at her candor. Rachel looked at them and rolled her eyes.

"Well, that's what happened!" she defended.

Mercedes still gaped at the two girls being interrogated as though she didn't believe what she was hearing. "Let me get this straight. The two of you—Santana and Quinn—are dating…each other?" she asked, and if one more person posed the same question Santana wasn't above hitting someone she considered to be a friend.

"Yes," Quinn confirmed for what seemed like the hundredth time with a nod.

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus," Mercedes said, bringing a hand to her heart. "This is it. This is the end."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Santana challenged as she quirked an eyebrow.

"It's just, you are basically the two scariest people I think any of us have ever met," Tina explained. "The thought of you dating each other is very, very terrifying."

"That's what I said when I first found out!" Kurt exclaimed.

"What do you think we're going to do?" Quinn scoffed. "Assassinate someone? Take over the world?"

"Yes," four people responded in unison.

"This is ridiculous," Quinn told them.

"You're all overreacting," Santana interjected at the same time, irritated.

"Seriously, come on," Finn said as he threw an arm around Santana's shoulders. "We should all be happy for these two!"

"Thanks, Finn," Santana told him, shrugging out from under his arm. "But that's enough. The point is this: Quinn and I are dating. Like it, don't like it, I really don't care. But please, for the love of God, _please_ stop asking us a million questions and commenting on our relationship." Quinn reached over to gently press her fingers into Santana's forearm, and Santana calmed at the touch.

"Well," Tina started as she looked between the two girls, "I guess you two do kind of make sense with each other. Once you get over the initial shock of it all, of course. Santana has the anger and temper thing going, and Quinn is calm, cool, and collected. It's a good balance."

"Also what I said," Kurt mumbled to no one in particular.

"Thank you, Tina," Quinn said quickly before Santana could say something sarcastic.

"Okay, okay," Puck called out. "Look, I love talking about woman-on-woman action as much as the next person, but let's get out of this joint." Everyone nodded and began to stand up and put on their coats. Santana and Quinn brought up the rear of the group as they made their way out of Breadstix.

"You know," Quinn said to Santana, interlacing their fingers with each other's, "you really do have a way with words." Her eyes sparkled brightly as she bit her lip to stop a laugh from coming out.

Santana bumped her shoulder into Quinn's, pouting. "Shut up. You know I don't do well with expressing or explaining things."

"All you had to do was tell them we're dating," Quinn replied through an escaped giggle.

"Hey, you could've been the one to tell them!"

"Technically, I was," Quinn reminded Santana with a grin.

"Yeah, only because my stupid brain couldn't process what I was trying to say," Santana told her. "It usually happens whenever I'm attempting to say something important."

"I think it's cute," Quinn said.

"Santana Lopez doesn't do cute."

"You need to stop saying that," Quinn responded. "Because you, Santana Lopez, are the cutest." She leaned over and kissed Santana on the cheek.

"Quinn," Santana whined, "you're going to ruin the reputation I have worked so hard to maintain if you keep up the 'cute' thing."

"That is something I'm willing to risk," Quinn said pleasantly. "Hey." She stopped walking and pulled Santana to a halt.

"Yes?" Santana asked, turning to face the blonde.

Quinn stared at her for a moment before the words came tumbling out of her mouth. "Kitty's a bitch and I love you."

Santana knit her eyebrows together in confusion. "So…is this your way of telling me you only love me because Kitty's a bitch?"

"No. But when she asked about us hating each other in high school, I don't know, it kind of just reminded me of how we were with each other back then. And how much time we lost trying to one up and beat the other. I also just wanted to remind you that I love you," Quinn stated.

Santana nodded in understanding. "Knowing what I do now, I'd do high school over again in a heartbeat. Except, I'd do it much differently, of course. I would," she continued, dropping Quinn's hand to wind her arms around the blonde's waist, "not be such an idiot and push away my feelings. I would confess my undying love for a certain, very special someone."

"Mr. Schue?" Quinn asked as she nodded and tilted her head to the side with a grin.

"How'd you know?" Santana answered with a laugh. "No, but my point is, yes, we were incredibly competitive with each other in high school. And yes, we did lose a good amount of time in which we could have been dating—it would just be plain ignorance to say anything else. However, the way I see it, we have a whole lot of time in front of us. So I say we focus on that, and give the world hell with just how awesome we are."

"I think that is the best idea I have ever heard," Quinn answered. "Though, I'm not sure if the world can handle all of our awesomeness."

"We are pretty awesome, huh?" Santana said. "I love you, too." She pulled Quinn in for a quick kiss. "But our dear friends are probably wondering where we are by now, come on." Santana reached for Quinn's hand again and led them towards the front door of the restaurant.

"I would definitely do high school differently, too," Quinn said thoughtfully.

"Oh yeah? And what would you do differently?"

"Not sleep with Puck, for one thing," she answered, laughing. "Don't get me wrong; I don't resent Beth for a second, but a lot of stress and pain could have been avoided if I had never involved myself with Puck in the first place." She paused a second to think something over. "I probably wouldn't dye my hair pink-"

"That was really hot, actually," Santana told her with a grin.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'm glad someone appreciated it then. But, most importantly, I would've told you how I felt. I would've laid it all out there and not have chickened out."

"And just what exactly would you have said to me?" Santana asked interestedly. They pushed the doors open and walked out into the night air, slowly heading for their group of friends who were crowded around Puck's truck in the middle of the parking lot.

"That I loved you," Quinn responded smoothly. "That I was _in love_ with you. That I was pretty sure nobody could ever compare to you."

"I need to check just one thing," Santana said seriously. When Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow, she went on, "That's still how you feel, right?" Santana grinned when Quinn giggled in response.

"No, that's not still how I feel," Quinn remarked and Santana's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "_Because_," Quinn pushed on, "I'm more in love with you now than I ever have been. And now, I am absolutely certain there is no one in this world who can even hold a candle to you."

"Aww," Santana replied, feeling her face heat up. "You're such a sap."

"Whatever, Lopez."

"I love you. More than you know."

"I love you, too."

"No, I'm serious, Quinn," Santana returned. "I know I'm not good with words and everything like you are, so I can't always express exactly what I'm feeling or what's going on in my mind. But I love you. Like, I don't think there are even enough words in the English language to cover it, so I guess it doesn't really matter if I'm good with them or not."

"Who's the sap now?" Quinn teased. "Hey, I'm not good with expressing myself either. I thought we already established that a while back. I'm just doing the best I can."

"Well, you're doing a damn good job."

"As are you," Quinn told Santana.

They reached the group to a clamor of whoops and hollers, while Mercedes and Tina cheered in delight.

"Look at you two, being all couple-y!" Mercedes squealed, staring at Santana and Quinn's linked hands.

"You guys really are cute together," Tina told them earnestly.

"Mmm," Santana responded with a nod, "thanks for your approval, Tina."

Everyone began to disperse and clamber into their own cars to go to Puck's house. As Santana and Quinn started towards the car Puck stopped them.

"Hey," he said excitedly, "next time you two foxy ladies get it on, can I watch?" He wiggled is eyebrows impishly.

Wordlessly, Quinn raised a threatening eyebrow and sharply smacked him across the back of the head, while Santana gave him a swift kick in the shin, before turning around and leaving him cowering in pain.


	15. Chapter 15

Santana glanced curiously out the window and then back at Quinn in the driver's seat; she had insisted on driving, and Santana had eventually succumbed to the hazel puppy dog eyes once again with no idea of her girlfriend's intention.

"Quinn?" Santana prompted, getting the girl's attention. "Just a couple of things: first of all, we're going to be late and Berry's going to freak out. I know we saw her less than 24 hours ago, but you know how she gets. I don't want an angry dwarf after me. And secondly, I am almost one hundred percent sure you're not even going the right way."

Quinn shook her head distractedly. "I already texted her saying we'll be late. She's not even planning on serving lunch until later. She only wanted everyone there early so she could try out new audition songs and get different opinions."

"Oh," Santana said with a frown. "Okay, well, that still leaves the fact I have no clue where we're going."

"You'll see when we get there," Quinn mumbled almost unintelligibly. All morning long she had been seemingly preoccupied and anxious with something unknown; her answers to Santana's questions were short and succinct, not going into any detail or elaboration. She had zoned out more than once during conversation, and currently, her hands twitched and tapped nervously on the steering wheel as her knee bounced up and down in fretfulness.

"Quinn, are you okay?" Santana asked, because she was growing more and more concerned about the girl's state of mind.

"What? Yeah, no, I'm fine." Quinn bit her lip and stared straight forward out the windshield.

"Should I be worried about where we're going?" Santana tried to joke, laughing half-heartedly.

"No, I'm…" Quinn sighed in frustration. "Please, just trust me on this. I promise you it will make sense."

"Of course," Santana told her quietly, though she still had her apprehensions.

The rest of the drive passed by in silence. Quinn chewed on her bottom lip—a habit, Santana had deduced, she implemented whenever she wanted to say something but couldn't find the appropriate words. Santana kept sneaking side glances at the blonde every few seconds in an attempt to comprehend what was going through her mind, but no success presented itself.

A half hour later, when Santana was certain they weren't even in Lima anymore despite not having seen any signs that confirmed the suspicion, Quinn turned the car down a short driveway. A sign at the end of the drive read "Jefferson Hills Assisted Living Home" and Santana's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. A large, apartment complex-like building came into view in the middle of a vast parking lot that was relatively full with other vehicles. Quinn quickly parked the car and got out, while Santana followed her silently.

They entered the building through the automatic sliding front doors, and Santana was met with smells that resembled those of a hospital. She looked around and saw the walls were painted light shades of pink and blue and had paintings of flowers or ocean-views hung on them.

Quinn strode to the front desk in the middle of the lobby where a middle-aged woman whom Santana presumed to be a nurse sat, typing on her computer. She looked up when Quinn approached and grinned widely.

"Miss Fabray!" the woman said cheerfully. "It's been such a long time! I'm so glad you've finally managed to visit." Quinn gave her a tight-lipped smile in return.

"Hi, Sandy. I know it's been a while. I've been busy with school and such."

"Of course, dear, of course!" Sandy answered, nodding sympathetically. "Well, you know the drill. Sign yourself and your guest in here, and you can go right on back. Her room hasn't changed. I'm sure you remember where it is."

Santana walked up behind Quinn and glanced over her shoulder; Quinn picked up the pen on the desk and wrote both hers and Santana's name and the time of their arrival in the sign-in notebook. She glimpsed up at Santana and smiled slightly, but her eyes were dark and cloudy, as they always were when Quinn was trying to mask her emotions. Quinn reached for Santana's hand and led her down the long hallway to the right of the front desk. Near the end of the hall, she stopped in front of a room marked 216 and turned to face Santana, who could tell Quinn was about to say something important and waited patiently.

"My mom has Alzheimer's," Quinn blurted suddenly.

Santana heard the words, but they didn't make sense to her. She stared at Quinn with an open mouth. "I'm sorry, what?"

"My mom," Quinn repeated with a deep breath, "has Alzheimer's. Early onset Alzheimer's, that is. And umm…it's progressed a lot over the past few years."

"But…what…" Santana stammered, still not comprehending the sudden situation. "What does that mean?"

"It means she doesn't know who I am anymore," Quinn stated quietly and bluntly.

"She doesn't…"

"Know who I am," Quinn finished, nodding. "That's correct."

"Oh." Santana shifted her weight between her feet as she tried to come up with something more extravagant to say, but came up empty handed.

Quinn smiled sadly again before turning the doorknob and pushing the door open. Santana trailed behind her into what appeared to be a bedroom: a bed was pushed up against the wall on the right with a nightstand beside it, a flat screen TV hung on the wall directly across from it, and a bay window on the far side of the room showed a view of a small courtyard. There was also a gray wingback chair in the corner, angled towards the bed, and it was occupied.

Judy Fabray sat there reading a magazine; her blonde hair was tied up in a bun, and she was still in pink plaid pajamas and a fluffy white bathrobe. She didn't seem to have heard the two girls enter the room.

"Mom?" Quinn called out softly. The older woman looked up and smiled dazedly.

"Oh, hello," she said in a distant voice. "Is it time for me to take my morning pills already?"

Santana felt her heart break at the vacant expression on Mrs. Fabray's face. It was clear she didn't recognize the young woman standing before her. Quinn wasn't lying: her own mother didn't know who she was anymore.

"No, Mom," Quinn said with quiet desperation, "it's me. It's Quinn." She walked across the room and perched herself on the edge of the bed, facing her mother.

"Quinn?" Mrs. Fabray repeated. "Why, that's a lovely name, dear! In fact, growing up that was one of the choices to name my daughter if I ever had one."

Santana heard Quinn sigh. She didn't know if she should move to sit next to her girlfriend or if she should stay put as she leaned against the closed door. Mrs. Fabray hadn't noticed Santana, and Santana thought maybe it was best to keep it that way. She stared at the back of Quinn's head, unsure of what to do or what to say.

"How have you been?" Quinn murmured.

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Fabray exclaimed. A sly grin then found its way to her lips and she leaned in towards Quinn. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course," Quinn told her.

"I met this wonderful man at church a few weeks back. His name is Russell, and he is just the perfect gentleman," Mrs. Fabray said in elation. Quinn recoiled at the mention of her father, and Santana took a step forward, the desire to comfort the girl outweighing her fears of establishing her presence in the room. Mrs. Fabray finally saw Santana and smiled at her. "Well, hello. I'm getting all kinds of company this morning!"

"Hello, Mrs. Fabray," Santana whispered.

"Who's Mrs. Fabray?" the woman asked with a confused expression. "Why, that's Russell's last name!"

"She meant Mrs. Finch," Quinn intervened quickly, and Santana furrowed her brow before the insight hit her.

_Right. She thinks she's much younger than she is_, she thought. _Maiden name_.

"Please! Mrs. Finch is my mother. Call me Judy!"

Quinn and Santana both nodded, and Mrs. Fabray went on.

"I was just telling this young lady here—I'm sorry, what's your name again?" she asked.

"Quinn." The blonde's voice was faint and strangled, and stating her name seemed to be a large task for her accomplish.

"Right!" her mother responded. "Quinn! Of course, such a lovely name. I was just telling Quinn here about the young man I've started seeing." Santana nodded, but didn't say anything.

"I think he may be the one for me," Mrs. Fabray continued, and then looked at Quinn with interested eyes. "Have you found the 'the one' yet, dear?"

"I believe I have."

Santana glanced at Quinn, but could only see the back of her head still, so she didn't see the expression on Quinn's face. If it had been any other time and they were anywhere else, Santana would have grinned at Quinn's admission.

"That is great news! And have you gotten your parents' approval? That's a very important part of a relationship," the older blonde informed them. It was then that Santana stumbled upon another realization: Quinn's mother would never know her daughter had ditched the male population completely in favor of females.

Quinn cleared her throat awkwardly as she tried to come up with a reasonable response. "Umm, no, not exactly. My parents aren't really in the picture."

Santana felt as though a lead weight had been dropped into her stomach; Quinn sat there, staring at the woman who gave her life and raised her—even if it hadn't been to the best of abilities. The woman who was supposed to be there for Quinn no matter what, and who was supposed to only be a phone call away at all times. And there wasn't even a flash of recognition in her mother's eyes. Just a dark pool of nothing.

Mrs. Fabray frowned. "I'm sorry, dear. That must be very difficult for you."

"It is," Quinn agreed weakly. "But you find a way to live with it."

The pain in her voice tore through Santana, making her want to throw her arms around Quinn and promise her everything would be okay. But she didn't. She bit her lip and kept quiet, knowing there would be a time in the future for comfort and consolation.

"Well, your perseverance is admirable, young lady," Mrs. Fabray said to her daughter.

"Thank you," Quinn forced out.

"You know," Mrs. Fabray started as she changed the subject, totally oblivious to Quinn's anguish and uncomfortableness, "last week, Russell took me…"

Santana zoned out as Mrs. Fabray launched into a story about a date with her ex-husband—even though, in Mrs. Fabray's mind, they were just starting out in their relationship.

She continued to stare at the backside of Quinn's head, wondering how the girl had managed to keep so much to herself. How much self-control did it take? How could a person keep an entire portion of his or her life a secret? It had to have ripped Quinn apart not having anyone to confide in.

She didn't know how long she stood there, looking at the long blonde hair of her girlfriend as Mrs. Fabray told story after story, but eventually the older woman mentioned something about taking her usual mid-morning nap soon. Quinn nodded in understanding.

"It was nice seeing you, mo—Judy," Quinn corrected herself.

"Yes, goodbye, dear," Mrs. Fabray replied vaguely as she reached down to pick up her magazine that had fallen to the floor. "I'll see you when you come get me for lunch."

Comprehension suddenly dawned on Santana as she realized who Mrs. Fabray thought the two girls were. _Nurses. She thinks were nurses_.

Quinn stood up from her spot on the bed and, after one last glance at her mother, turned and walked past Santana and out the door without a word. Her features were hard, and whatever she was thinking and feeling was carefully covered up. Santana quickly followed as Quinn led her down the same hallway they had already walked. Once they re-entered the main lobby, Quinn strode out the front entrance, into the parking lot. Instead of heading towards the car, though, she made a sharp left and walked parallel to the building. Santana trailed close behind; she had no idea where Quinn was taking her, but she knew it was not the time to ask questions. Quinn would talk when she was ready to.

The blonde seemed to be guiding Santana to a large cluster of trees that stood across from the end of the building, but as they got nearer Santana could see a well-hidden pathway amongst the foliage and Quinn led Santana straight to and down it. It was a manmade trail, with gravel underfoot, but it was short; just a few yards ahead Santana noticed the path led straight into an overgrown, circular garden. The hundreds of flowers around it gave of a fresh, sweet scent. A large wishing fountain stood in the middle of the grassy area and a bench was situated to face it. Quinn went directly to the bench and sat down, Santana right after her, keeping a little distance between herself and Quinn.

"So," Quinn started with a sigh, "I know you probably have some questions."

"Just a couple," Santana murmured.

Quinn nodded in understanding and directed her gaze to the fountain. "She thinks she's twenty years old again," Quinn explained to Santana, referring to Mrs. Fabray's joy about a figment of her imagination. She waited a second before continuing. "It started during the summer before senior year of high school. Just small, stupid things at first, you know? She couldn't remember where she put her keys, or where her glasses were. I didn't really think anything of it at the time." She paused and fiddled with her hands in her lap. Santana watched her attentively, knowing Quinn was far from done.

"But then it got bad. Really bad. And really quickly, too. It was like all of a sudden she couldn't even remember what day it was or where she was supposed to be. I had to start writing her notes every morning telling her what she had to do that day or where she needed to be and at what time. Some days were better than others—sometimes she went an entire week without forgetting anything. But after a few months she could hardly go two days without forgetting what my name was." Quinn stared down at her hands and let out a deep breath.

"You didn't say anything?" Santana asked her quietly and Quinn shook her head.

"No. I thought I could manage her on my own. Turns out I couldn't, though," Quinn told Santana, still averting her hazel eyes from the dark brown ones.

"What happened?"

"She kind of…lashed out at me," Quinn admitted reluctantly. "I came home from school one day and she just…didn't know who I was. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but I could usually talk her off the ledge and get her to trust me, and eventually she would become lucid again. But this time it was different. I tried to explain how I was there to help her and I didn't want to hurt her, but she didn't believe be. Which resulted in her sort of attacking me."

Santana's jaw dropped in surprise. Quinn had been keeping more from Santana than she could have ever imagined. "She did _what_?"

"Attacked me. She got me across the face with her nails pretty good, too," Quinn said as she chuckled humorlessly. "After a while she locked herself in her room and fell asleep."

"What did you do?" Santana inquired.

"The only thing I could think of," Quinn responded softly. "I called my dad."

For the second time in the matter of hours, Santana felt her heart shatter. Pain and anguish tore through Quinn's words; she sat on the bench looking more vulnerable and helpless than Santana had ever seen her—including the night Quinn had confessed her true feelings for her best friend. She was well aware of Quinn's relationship with her father. It was never good, and it certainly didn't end any better. Santana swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, but wasn't able to reply because Quinn started again.

"In retrospect, it was a terrible decision. He was disgusted—I mean, he was actually _disgusted_ at what had happened to my mom. As if there was something I could have done to prevent it. I knew she needed help, though. And I knew she couldn't live at home with me anymore. So, I blackmailed into helping my mom and me." Quinn shrugged her shoulders indifferently, but Santana couldn't process the words.

"You did what?" she asked in a strangled voice.

"Blackmailed him," Quinn repeated. She finally lifted her gaze to look at Santana in the eye. "I threatened to tell all of his church and golf buddies about his affair with that tattooed skank, how he kicked me out of the house, _and_ how he found comfort in glass after glass of Scotch. I don't think they would have respected him so much after finding all that out. And pretty much the whole world knew just how much he needed to be respected by anyone and everyone. I know it probably wasn't the best way to go about things, but it was all I could come up with at the time. And it was effective."

"So it worked?" Santana replied. "I mean, he helped you?"

Quinn nodded. "He found this place for my mom, and he's the one who pays the bills for it all. Not that he's ever been to visit her, but still. I don't know what I would have done had he not helped out." She bit her lip as a guilty expression flitted across her features, and Santana reached over and laid a comforting hand on her back.

"Hey," she said gently, "Quinn, you did what you had to do, okay? You didn't do anything wrong. But, umm, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"I don't mean to sound…harsh, or anything, but didn't people notice the fact your mom basically just disappeared?"

"Not really, to be honest," Quinn confessed. "Anyone she was friends with was through my dad and church, and once they 'consciously uncoupled,' as they so eloquently told everyone, she didn't exactly have a lot of people to talk to. She pretty much just kept to herself."

"Okay," Santana allowed, nodding, "but what about you? Your mom was no longer living with you, so what did you do?"

"I just lived alone," Quinn answered off-handedly.

Santana gaped at her. "What, in your house?" When Quinn nodded in affirmation she went on, "You lived in your house, all alone?"

"Yes," Quinn confirmed. "Just until graduation, obviously. Like with this place, my dad took care of the bills and taxes and everything, again because of my threat to uproot his precious reputation, and I lived alone."

"Wasn't your mom _at _graduation, though?" Santana returned as she scrunched up her face in confusion.

"Yeah, and _I _was completely against the idea. A nurse accompanied her, just no one knew it was a nurse. Actually," Quinn continued as an afterthought, "that was one of her last 'good' days. She wasn't lucid the entire day, but the nurse told me afterwards she was aware of what was happening through a lot of the ceremony. It was mainly downhill from there."

"Quinn, I love you, I really do," Santana began as she shook her head in confusion, "but some of this doesn't seem plausible. Didn't your neighbors notice the absence of your parents? Or at least your mom? Didn't someone _somewhere_ wonder what happened to her?"

Quinn let out another unamused laugh. "Santana, you're forgetting that this is my _father_ we're talking about here. I'm not sure how many people found out along the way about what happened to my mom, but whoever and wherever they are, I am absolutely certain my dad paid them to keep quiet. Anybody who questioned our situation? Yep, he paid them off, too. Like I said, his reputation was the most important thing in his life. He would never want it getting out that his ex-wife had early onset Alzheimer's. People would think that's why they got divorced and their view of him would drastically change—for the worse. Once again, the Fabray household swept all of the bad feelings under the rug. They can't exist if we don't talk about them." She stood up and started pacing back and forth in front of the bench as Santana stared feebly up at her. "As for the whole neighbors not noticing thing," Quinn added, "even when they were married my parents were hardly ever home. It was normally just me. So after my mom left, nothing really changed. The neighbors accepted it a long time ago that we liked to keep to ourselves; no one ever questioned it."

"You were going through all of this during senior year and you were able to keep _everything_ a secret?" Santana asked, half-broken heartedly and half-amazedly. "Jesus, Quinn," she muttered disbelievingly. Apparently, Quinn Fabray was even better at hiding her thoughts, emotions, and feelings than anyone could have guessed. Once again, Santana couldn't even imagine how hard it had been for Quinn to push everything away and pretend it didn't exist.

"Yeah, well, it's not as though I handled it incredibly well," Quinn responded, still pacing. "It resulted in my hair being dyed pink and me hanging out with a group of girls who called themselves 'The Skanks.'" She scoffed at the memory. "And _then_ it led to me attempting to get my daughter back by going to extreme, borderline illegal measures."

"That's why you did all that stuff? Because of your mom?"

"Mhmm," Quinn answered without breaking her stride. Santana was beginning to get anxious just from watching Quinn continuously retrace her steps. "Mostly because of my mom, that is. Because in addition to that, I don't think I had really ever gotten over the whole Beth thing. I still felt so broken. So lost. I felt like I was the biggest screw up to ever walk the earth."

"You weren't, Quinn," Santana told her sincerely. "You aren't."

The blonde stopped pacing for a moment and gazed at Santana with intense eyes. "Thank you," she said quietly. As she took a deep breath Quinn resumed her treading back and forth. "Thanksgiving night you asked about me visiting Lima and I told you I haven't been back in three years. I wasn't lying. After we moved my mom to this place I visited two or three times a week or as often as I could, but it was essentially pointless. She just got worse and worse and, the summer after graduation, it reached the point where she didn't know who I was anymore, ever. I mean, she didn't even have lucid moments.

"I kept visiting, though, until I left for school. For the first few months I came back whenever I found time; I felt like I was abandoning her by just dumping her here and going off to college. I didn't tell anyone when I was here, obviously. Each time I kept hoping some miracle would happen and she'd be okay, but of course no such thing happened. Eventually, seeing her not even give the slightest indication that she recognized me pushed me over the edge. I stopped coming back and started just calling every week to make sure she was okay. And I just…stayed away," Quinn finished as she came to a halt again.

"I know what you're thinking," Santana said sharply, leaning forward on the bench, "and you're wrong."

"Santana-"

"No, Quinn," Santana cut her off. "You're not a horrible person. I know this entire situation with your mom makes you feel like one, but you're not. Not even in the slightest. You did what you needed to do, alright? This whole thing totally and completely sucks. But you didn't do anything wrong, and you are not a horrible person."

"I stopped coming to visit! I just left my mother—my own _mother_—here and went off to college," Quinn replied as she threaded her hands through her hair. Santana quickly stood up and faced her girlfriend.

"It's not like you stopped caring," Santana tried to reason with her. "Quinn, I know this is the last thing you want to hear, and you're probably not even going to believe me, but you did the right thing. You were put in a difficult position—scratch that, an _impossible_ situation—and you had to make a choice. You did what was best for your mom, and you and I both know she would have wanted you to go to Yale. She wouldn't want you worrying about her or missing out on the chance of a lifetime in attending the school of your dreams." She took a step closer to Quinn when the girl didn't say anything. "Do you disagree with that statement?"

Quinn's eyes dropped down to her feet as she shook her head slowly. "No," she whispered. "You're right."

"Good, okay," Santana said with a nod. "So will you please stop beating yourself up and feeling guilty about this?"

"I can't help it," Quinn murmured, and Santana took another step forward.

"I know you can't, but I need you to try. You cannot go the rest of your life with this holding you down."

"I'm working on it," Quinn replied as one side of her lips turned up in a half-smile.

"That's all I ask of you," Santana told her.

Quinn returned her stare to the fountain in the middle of the garden and seemed to get lost in thought for a moment. Santana watched her closely, waiting for her to sort out whatever was running through her mind. After a minute, and to Santana's greatest astonishment, a small laugh escaped Quinn's mouth; but it was cold and brittle, and so unlike Quinn's natural laugh.

"Quinn?" Santana asked uncertainly.

"I'm sorry, it's just…" she trailed off with a shake of her head.

"Just what?" Santana urged.

"It just feels like there's someone out there who's using my life as some sort of crappy storyline and making as many bad things as possible happen to me just for the hell of it," Quinn explained. "Getting pregnant; my dad being an abusive, alcoholic asshole; my mom and early onset Alzheimer's; going a little bit crazy at the beginning of senior year; the car crash," she ticked each event off on a finger. "Nothing good ever stays with me." Her voice suddenly became soft and sad, and it was laced with hurt and sorrow. Quinn stared at Santana with eyes that were blazing with fire and emotion, and Santana could tell where she was going with everything.

"Quinn, don't you dare even think about saying what I know you're about to say," Santana warned her.

"You don't know what I was going to say," Quinn argued in a mumble. She dropped her eyes from Santana's face.

"Yes, I do. Of course I do," Santana responded. "You were going to turn the conversation to our relationship." Quinn opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut when no words came out, and it confirmed Santana's prediction.

"Santana," Quinn eventually began, and she didn't even try to hide the desperation in her voice, "don't you get it? Almost anything that is even _remotely_ good in my life leaves at some point. Or I ruin it. I have sent every single relationship I've ever been in up in flames because of my insecurities or just plain stupidities. And I refuse to do that to you. I refuse to keep you around just so I can screw something up and lose you or push you away."

Santana closed the distance between them and gently cupped Quinn's face, forcing the girl to look at her. The hazel eyes were clouded over again, and Santana could see the countless emotions floating around inside them.

"I'm going to need you to stop," Santana told Quinn in a voice that held both firmness and softness. "I get where you're coming from, but you are _not_ going to lose me, Quinn. I am not going anywhere. I don't care about what happened in previous relationships, and I don't care if you think you've lost every good thing in your life; you're not going to lose me."

"Everyone just always leaves," Quinn said in a thoroughly broken voice, and Santana felt the tug on her heartstrings at the sound of it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Quinn. Nothing and no one can make me leave you. I can't promise that I'll never be a bitch or say something stupid, but I _can_ promise you I will never leave you."

"But I-"

"Do you love me?" Santana interjected.

"What?" Quinn asked, stunned by the question.

"Do you love me?" Santana reiterated.

"More than anything."

"That's all I need. Quinn, you are the strongest person I have ever met. You have survived things that would break most people—myself included. And that is a testament to your character. I should've told all of this when you got pregnant or when you started hanging out with The Skanks. You're not a bad person and you've done nothing to deserve everything that has happened to you. What you _do _deserve is happiness," Santana said and her eyes didn't falter away from Quinn's.

"You make me happy," Quinn answered quietly, and Santana couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips.

"Then you are most definitely never losing me. Besides, this is you and me. We're not just anyone. We," Santana said as she moved her face closer to Quinn's, "are flawless."

"That's not entirely true," Quinn breathed with a smile.

"No," Santana agreed, shaking her head, "it's not. But that's okay. We can pretend, at least."

Quinn chuckled in response and Santana claimed her lips with her own, moving her hands from Quinn's face to wind them around her neck. They stayed like that for a few minutes, enjoying the much needed break from heavy conversation.

"I thought I was the one who's supposed to have self-esteem issues?" Santana teased into the silence after they pulled back.

"Well, we all have our problems," Quinn replied with a smile.

"We're so damaged." Santana meant it as a joke, but both girls knew the reality and validity of it.

"We really are," Quinn acknowledged. "I don't know, though, maybe that's why we work so well together. Our broken pieces fit perfectly with one another."

"Quinn, that's so sad," Santana pointed out, though she knew Quinn's statement was yet another accurate assessment of their relationship.

"Actually, I think that's just life."

"I guess I shouldn't question it then," Santana remarked before leaning in for another quick kiss.

"No, you shouldn't," Quinn told her. "But hey, I'm sorry for kind of springing all of this on you so suddenly. I thought it would be better to _show _you rather than try to explain everything. And considering I don't know when we'll be in Lima again, it seemed like as good a time as ever."

Santana shook her head quickly. "I'm really glad you decided to. It makes more sense now why you haven't been back. I just wish you could've told me sooner. Like, years-ago-sooner."

"I'm sorry. I've been keeping it from everyone—literally, everyone."

"Quinn, I…" Santana struggled with finding the right words. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the shitty hand life has dealt you over the years. I'm sorry about your mom, and I'm sorry your dad really isn't a good person at all. I'm sorry about everything in high school. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you through most of it."

Quinn smiled endearingly. "As much as I appreciate it, why are _you _apologizing? Don't get me wrong, I love you for feeling the need to say you're sorry, but Santana, there isn't a thing you could have done to prevent anything that's happened to me."

"I know," Santana responded. "I know that. But you don't deserve it—any of it. And I want you to know how serious I am when I say you're not going to lose me. I'm very aware of the fact trust isn't a strong point for either of us, and I know that everything you've been through has led to you having some insecurities, but I love you." She paused to take a deep breath. "I love you, and I don't plan on letting anything else bad happen to you. Just so you know."

"You know," Quinn began with a grin, "five minutes ago? I didn't think it was possible to be more in love with you."

"And now?" Santana asked.

"Oh, it's definitely possible," Quinn told her, and found Santana's lips again as if to prove her point. After a moment, she broke away from Santana. "I love you."

"And I love you," Santana told her.

"So does this make you my…_Princess_ Charming?" Quinn inquired. Her eyes twinkled brightly and she bit her lip to stop from laughing.

"Quinn," Santana grumbled as she stuck her bottom lip out in a pout, "that's lame."

"Fine. How about this makes you…the love of my life?"

"Much better."


End file.
